


A Storm in the West

by argle_fraster, astrangerenters



Category: Arashi (Band), Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, M/M, Multi, Old West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 100,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/argle_fraster/pseuds/argle_fraster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrangerenters/pseuds/astrangerenters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A saloon owner with an enigmatic past, an idealistic sheriff, a remorseful shotgun messenger, and the town that unites them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in summer of 2009 and posted at argle_fraster and hiamafic @ LJ.

There was a long-standing animosity between the owner of the saloon and the local sheriff, and it wasn't _entirely_ based on the fact that in the six months of living in Rapid Springs, the sheriff had never once paid off his tab- though that did, of course, create more than a little tension between the two when they managed to run into each other out on the dusty road. Long-standing might be pushing it a bit, to be truthful; the sheriff was new 'round the parts, and replacing the one shot dead by train bandits probably wasn't an easy task.

It was everything about him, right down to that spiked star on his lapel. It was the way he carried himself when he walked through the squeaking doors, like he owned the place, like the deed was in his pocket and not in the iron box upstairs underneath the bed. It was the way he tipped his hat to everyone he passed by and expected them to answer, because he was the sheriff, and he could just let the Indians ravage their children at night if he really wanted to. It was the way that he had never, _ever_ learned that tipping was a valuable and necessary course of action when one pours you glass after glass of whiskey from the top shelf.

Actually, come to think of it- and Ninomiya did think about it, a lot, often while he was glowering over the top of the bar countertop at the sheriff with his boots up on the table- it was mostly because the law-maker parked himself in the corner of the saloon every Thursday, and stayed until close.

Thursday had at one point been Nino's best business day. The girls dolled up their classiest (and he used the word classy in the loosest possible sense, because he had bought the combined cabinet of dresses in the backroom for a little more than a dollar) and the men had come in with cigars and full pockets, and there had been games. Games of chance, games of luck; games that were just begging to be cheated at, and thusly brawled over, and the sheer amount of recompense Nino could extort out of the drunk bastards had managed to pay the rent three months in advance every time. His Thursday nights had been known three towns over as the best in the parts, attracting the most money and the most infamous rollers.

And now Thursdays were dead, because the sheriff was whistling to himself in the corner every time the day rolled around, tossing a penny up in the air (and often dropping it, because his hand-eye coordination never seemed to be quite 100%).

Not to mention he had still not paid his outstanding tab.

Ninomiya thought he was a generous fellow- okay, maybe not generous in the usual sense, but magnanimous enough that he only jacked the price of whiskey up 10% when one of his chairs ended up losing a leg in a particularly ugly brawl- but even his patience was being tested as the sheriff continued loitering around his place of business. He might have been able to ignore the drop in Thursday's usual rough-and-tumble crowd, but the sheriff had a mean glare that he turned on the girls when they came out from behind the slightly-used curtains, and it made them squeak and flutter and turn right back around.

So Nino wasn't getting any business from the cards. He wasn't getting any business from the outlaws who had just robbed a train and wanted to spend the money before it got cold in their fingers. He wasn't even getting any money from the corner of ill-repute that was obviously not a brothel because his inn didn't have enough rooms for that sort of thing (it was really more of a rent-a-girl by the hour type of service, and that seemed to go over well for most of the customers anyway).

And the damn sheriff wouldn't pay off his damn tab, which could at least allow Nino to buy some more tequila from across the border.

Nino huffed particularly loudly and scraped against the countertop a bit harder than was necessary.

The sheriff noticed this, and glanced over, looking irritatingly perky.

"Doing good business?" he asked, in a way that was entirely too casual- he flipped his coin again, and it pinged against the floor, and he obviously tried to pretend that dropping it had been intentional.

"No," Nino said pointedly, hoping the man would get the hint and leave. He never did.

"Well, you know what they say," the sheriff replied. There was silence. When nothing else seemed to be following, Nino let his fingertips dance across the countertop.

"No, I don't know what they say," he said.

"Oh," the sheriff said. "Well, they say that this place is gettin' cleaned up."

"My saloon?" Nino asked, with one eyebrow nearly to his hairline. "Or the area in general?"

The law-maker bent down to pick up the dropped coin, and finally flipped his boots off the table in front of him- Nino would have to get one of the girls to clean it later, since he figured no one really wanted mud under their liquor glasses.

"Everything," came the vague response. "Cleanin' up. Not gonna be full of outlaws for much longer."

Nino wanted very badly to throw something, but the thing with the sheriff was that it was next to impossible to find anything to legitimately be angry about. He couldn't very well start raging about how his whores weren't making enough money to justify keeping any longer, or how he'd been reduced to a quarter of his liquor sales per week without the dice games; that would be admitting his hand in the very things the sheriff had managed to rout.

He tended to get more snippy than usual because he didn't have anywhere to direct his ire.

The sheriff sauntered over to the counter and slapped his palm down on the top; the coin pinged against the wood.

"Well, it's good to see, isn't it?" he asked. Nino had to bite his lip to keep his temper back.

"Sure," he finally managed to reply without sounding strangled. "Good to see."

The sheriff gave him the annoying hat-tilt, and unhurriedly made his way out the swinging doors, and Nino watched, hoping that one would hit him in the ass as he left. With the sheriff gone, the tension within the structure dipped immediately- Scarlet even felt brave enough to peek out around the curtain again.

The man at the counter- the only man at the counter- clicked his fingernails against the rim of his glass a few times to signal Nino over.

"Guy's got you on a tight leash," he said, sun-burned face wrinkling unattractively. Nino just pulled the stopper out of the whiskey bottle.

"More?" he asked. There was a nod of ascent, and the outsider began tapping his fingers against the wood of the bar, looking thoughtful.

"Know what you need?" he asked, and none of Nino's answers were going to be pleasant enough to keep him there drinking more, so he stayed silent. "A card game."

"Can't," Nino said, waspishly. "Sheriff's got his eye on me now. Already ran out my last one."

"Not a standing appointment," the stranger said. "A once-in-a-lifetime chance for luck."

Nino glanced to the side, checking the occupancy; Scarlet was talking with one of the other stragglers, and there was a man in the far corner slumped over his arm onto the table, empty glass beside him. After a moment, Nino leaned in, over the counter.

"I'm listening," he said.

"Sandburg Boys are back," the stranger whispered. Nino pushed himself back from the counter with force- more than he needed, because his back hit the shelves of liquor behind him, rattling the glass. He glared at the outsider, with his towel in one hand.

"Sandburg Boys killed our last sheriff," he warned, keeping his voice low.

"You need 'em," the man said, gesturing towards the empty saloon around him. The motion was unnecessary; Nino was already aware of how painfully he did need the outlaws again. "They got money. And they're lookin' to spend."

Nino looked across the tables again. They didn't need to be cleaned, because no one had sat in them all day, but he'd do it anyway, before closing. The girls hadn't had a proper meal in days. His stores were getting dangerously low, and the money in the cashbox was running precariously thin. Thinking about it made his chest constrict- but it was an old ache, and it was hardly applicable anymore.

He set the towel down on the counter, deliberately.

"You know how to reach them?" he asked, holding himself up with his palms, fingers wrapping around the corner of the bar-top.

"Aye," came the response.

Nino glanced at Scarlet, and at the sleeping man in the corner.

"Saturday night," he said, pursing his lips. "One week from Saturday night."

The stranger just nodded, drinking slowly from his glass and watching Nino over the rim with shrewd eyes that he didn't entirely care for.

"Tell them that," Nino repeated. "It'll be here."

\-------

The desert cooled off mighty quick at night. The dry, unforgiving heat during the day that   left the brim of his hat soaked through and stained with sweat was gone, replaced now with a chilly breeze coming down from the plateaus that raised the hair on his arms. And the fact that there were plateaus (and mountains and gullies and endless spans of tan, sun-battered rock) still took some getting used to.

It hadn’t been this way back home. Tree-lined boulevards, houses of brick and stone, and newspapers from the shouting kid on the street corner. Life in Rapid Springs was a far cry from Boston. Out here, there was no choking smoke from factory soot. Out here, the women didn’t wear the latest fashions from the Sears and Roebuck catalog. Out here, the men didn’t find employment as bankers or surgeons or professors. In Rapid Springs, there was a branch of the New Mexico Territory Savings and Loan in the town ten miles north. In Rapid Springs, the local doctor was also the local funeral home operator. And in Rapid Springs, there was talk of opening a schoolhouse in a few years if any new families decided to move to town.

“You could be a constable in any respectable community,” his father had said, infuriated. “You’ll get yourself strung up and killed.”

“Nothing but loose women and Satan’s lot out west,” his mother had said, horrified. “Stay here with us.”

But Boston wasn’t where he belonged. The dime novels he’d devoured in the long nights away at boarding school, and the stories of the brave men with tin stars, standing alone against the cruelty of life away from civilization. These ideas had lit a fire in Sho that he couldn’t stamp out. There was adventure to be had. Everything was new. You made your own name and didn’t rely on the one you were born with.

It hadn’t been an easy road. He’d been a Boston police officer for the better part of a year, saving money to take him west. There’d been no destination in mind. He just knew his place was out there. An application to the territorial government had been accepted, and he’d taken a train and three stagecoaches to get to Santa Fe. Then he’d only been there a few weeks before the opening came here in Rapid Springs.

Six months now without the tree-lined boulevards and houses of brick and stone. He slept on a straw mattress in the sheriff’s station. His throat was always dry from the sand and the grit, and his eyes equally so. But he’d made it. No father or mother to coddle him or try to set up some arrangement with another gentleman’s daughter. Out here, he was in charge. He was justice. He alone was the law.

As he strolled leisurely up the dirt path, Main Street as it were, Sheriff Sakurai felt the cold on his skin. The oil lamps lighting the entrance to Ninomiya’s saloon were behind him, and only the moon and stars guided him home. His boots hit the wooden steps and he unlocked the door to the station, turning the latch. Shotguns were in the glass case on the wall, a far cry from the club he’d carried in Boston.

He lit a candle and dressed for bed in his small room just to the left of the holding cells. Another successful Thursday with whiskey in his belly and the satisfaction of saving a few men from letting their greed or lust consume them. Rapid Springs would grow and change for the better under his leadership.

As he laid down and extinguished the candle, Sho dreamed of the New Mexico sun rising and setting at the sheriff’s command.

\-------

"I think you're too hard on him," Ohno said, voice half-muffled behind a particularly large stack of boxes. The crates were a bit unstable, wobbling as he moved past them, and Nino put a hand out to keep the entire pile from falling over. Ohno seemed oblivious; his hair was in his eyes again, and he was covered in sweat- though, they all were, as the temperatures climbed even higher towards noon. The apron 'round his waist was already grimy from carting goods back and forth from the storeroom.

"I'm not being overly harsh," Nino said. He frowned, and watched as Ohno began unpacking a crate with salted meat inside. "Do you know how difficult it is to keep business when he's skulking around the corner the whole time?"

"I don't think sheriffs skulk," Ohno mused aloud. He wiped at his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing oil across his face in the process. He turned as the bell to the front door jingled, but it was just Clive, the farmer's son from beyond the church, dropping off grain. Ohno took the delivery, and gave the boy a handful of grain and one of the rolls- he was too soft, Nino often thought, giving away merchandise in return for goods he was already paying for- and then Clive left, ringing the bell again. Already the sun was streaming in through the grimy windows, painting the floor with a myriad of yellow hues.

Nino leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. It was dusty inside the dry goods store, but not uncomfortably so; the particles mingled with the sweet smell of baking bread, and it felt more familiar than stifling.

"Look, I'm trying," he said. "There's not much I can do right now. My hands are tied."

Ohno smiled at him, wiping at his face again.

"I know," the baker replied.

"It'll get better, okay?" Nino promised. He shifted forward a bit, hand settling on the cabinet of ammunition; powder in kegs, bullets and rounds in burlap bags. "I promise."

Ohno stopped mid-turn towards the cast iron oven, dough in his palms. He gave Nino one of those looks- one of those looks where Nino was pretty sure he knew exactly what was going on, but wasn't going to say anything, because it was Ohno, and he kept out of people's business. Nino was willing to bet that Ohno knew half the town's secrets, and hadn't uttered a word of any of them. For all his vacant gazing, sometimes he was bizarrely observant.

"Just- don't do anything reckless," the shop owner said, softly, shoving the dough into the handspan opening in the iron and latching the door again.

"It's me," Nino joked, knowing full well that the comment was probably only going to make Ohno worry more rather than less. Ohno just gave him another unreadable look, and began wiping down the shelves in preparation for the day's stocking. He did everything deliberately, with so much care- Ohno loved his store. Ohno loved his bakery, even if Nino was probably one of the only people who entered daily to get bread from it. Ohno loved every corner of the building, right down to the store room in the back; the town was his pride and joy, the love of his life. Rapid Springs wasn't a hole in the wall to him, it was the expanse of desert just beyond the legal bounds, the never-ending sky meeting the beige horizon line.

The town- well, Nino didn't give a rat's ass about the town, but he did care about his friend. Rapid Springs had never done much for him.

"Maybe you should start selling something else," Ohno suggested. He was kneeling behind the stack of salt bags, straightening the corners.

"Like what?"

"More rooms?" was Ohno's response. Nino shifted his feet, dragging one boot heel across the wood boards with a frown.

"What for?" he shot back. "No one comes here; can't sell them all as it is. This town is dying."

"Don't say that," Ohno said. He stood, and looked a bit sad- the corners of his mouth were quirking downward. He shoved his rag in his apron pocket, moving back to the dough.

"You know it's true," Nino pointed out. "Ever since they built the railroad the town over, you know it's true. This place isn't on the map anymore."

Ohno gave him another smile, kneading the dough with his hands, flecks of flour sticking to his knuckles.

"Maybe you should give them something to come here for," he volunteered. "Play the piano like you used to."

Nino just flicked at a bit of dried dirt on his shirt sleeve.

"I'll give them something to come here for," he muttered, darkly, and that much was true- Saturday was a week away, and maybe he'd scrounge up enough business through the card game to get his backlog of bills paid. Anymore customer-less weeks and he was going to get denied liquor shipments. Thinking about the potential profit made him feel a bit less angry at Rapid Springs, and he let his head fall back against the support beam in the wall. The heat was swarming around his shoulders, making breathing difficult.

They stayed in companionable silence for awhile, until Ohno opened the oven door again and shut it with another thud.

"Check with Aiba," he offered, brushing his hands off- flour fell to the ground, sprinkling the wood, and caught on the hem of his pants. "He might know of someone that needs a room- he always gets word of the travelers first."

Nino launched himself out from the wall with a snap of his wrists, grabbing his hat from the crates nearby.

"Maybe I will," he said, though he didn't really mean it- should the card game pull through, the Sandburg Boys would be more than enough for the month. He straightened his shirt, pulling a bit at the buttons near his throat.

"Take care," Ohno called, as Nino made his way out of the general store, and into the unforgiving Rapid Springs heat.

\--------

The gin was watered down, and yet the skinny slip of a bartender was charging full price. He moved the glass around the table, the warm liquid sloshing around the spotted glass. It was clear to him that the owner didn’t take much pride in his business. But it was the only place in town with beds, and he didn’t much fancy a night in someone’s pig sty. Much as he liked spending the night under the stars, there were scorpions, rattlesnakes and other nasties in the desert around these parts.

He sipped the drink, curling his toes inside his boots at the rotten taste. But it was better than trying to get water from the wells. With his hat low, the other patrons couldn’t see him too closely, but he could see them. The bartender was drunk himself, hiccupping and trying to proposition one of the girls. Some ranch hands were playing cards and then he smelled her before he saw her.

“Mind if I sit down?”

He tipped his hat back slightly. Her hair was curled, but not completely. And she was nearly pouring out of her dress. All he did was nod slightly. He wasn’t much in the mood for company, but at least she still had all her teeth.

“What brings you to Silver Creek, stranger?”

“Job.”

She nodded, reaching for his glass and taking a long sip from it. Well, he was done with that drink now. Lord knew what kind of diseases she might have been carrying. Silver Creek was enough of a blot on the map to have a saloon and a chapel, but not enough to have girls that were guaranteed clean. “What kind of job?”

“Escorted some items from Santa Fe for Mr. Randal’s store.”

She tapped her fingers on the worn, wooden tabletop. The nails were painted blood red, and he recoiled internally at the sight of them. “Oh, Mr. Randal’s a good man. A good Christian man.”

All he could do was nod, knowing that his new companion and Mr. Randal probably had known each other in the biblical sense once or twice. He wasn’t much for idle conversation and took his elbows from the table, leaning back against the seat. “Think I’ll be heading out now.”

She had those crimson fingertips wrapped around his wrist before he could stand. “Didn’t catch your name.”

“Didn’t offer it.”

Usually this put them off, acting cool and distant, but this one was itching for coin. Probably needed a new bonnet or some more paint for her face. “Come on now. We’re all friends here. I’m Strawberry.”

He sucked on the inside of his cheek. “Strawberry.”

She let one of her fingers slip under the sleeve, grazing his wrist and sending shivers both pleasant and unpleasant down his spine. “Cause I taste just as sweet.”

Jun took his arm away from her and adjusted his hat. “I’m sure you are, but I’m not buying what you’re selling. Not tonight.”

He turned, his heel meeting a creak in the floorboard. “Think I don’t know who you are, stranger? Think we’re nothin’ but a bunch of bumpkins out here?” He paused. “Ain’t no other man in this part of the territory got a bullet hole through the brim of his hat like that. Wouldn’t want Sheriff Barnes to know you’re planning to stick around here.”

Well, he could cross Silver Creek off his list of places to accept work. Maybe he oughta just head up north, find a mine in Nevada and just break his back. Fame (or infamy) had never suited him. He held out his hand. “Okay, Strawberry.”

She accepted, following him up the stairs round back of the saloon and up to the second floor where his room was. He tossed his hat on the bed, and she was already unpinning her hair. “None of that,” he told her. “You aren’t staying long.”

Her smile was like a devil, one of the sirens luring an ancient sailor to his doom. “Suit yourself, darlin’, I won’t tell anyone you came through, and Mr. Randal won’t either.” She moved her hands up and down his chest, fingers catching on his suspenders. He pushed her down, his own hand twisting in the dyed red curls until she was kneeling.

“You drive a hard bargain.”

She reached for the top button of his trousers. “Don’t I just?”

\--------

The sounds of a hammer meeting steel rang far beyond the structure of the rickety building on the edge of town that looked like it had seen better days. It was hot, and the bugs were swarming, and Sho swatted them away unconsciously with his hand as he walked across the pebble-strewn street. The lack of rain was making everything all the more dusty, and he'd never be able to get it out of his clothes again; not that it mattered, really, because he never planned on going back to Boston, and people 'round Rapid Springs were used to dirt embedded in their fabrics. It was just another thing he hadn't quite gotten used to yet.

The heat was driving most of the civilians inside, but if the rhythmic pounding noises were any indication, the blacksmith was still hard at work under the canopy of his shoddy roof. Sho paused for a moment, and then rapped his knuckles against the beam at the side of the structure. The blacksmith's shop didn't have much by way of four walls- it was largely open, to allow better air circulation, but he still felt odd entering without permission. Call it old-fashioned, but it was a protocol engrained in his blood.

There was a small crash, and a thud, like something heavy meeting dirt.

"Here!" came the call in response, and Sho stepped over the bounds. It was hot within, even with the airflow, and the oppressive heat pounded him in the face. There was a whinny from a horse, and a snort, followed by several clodding hooves against the floor.

The blacksmith was bent over the horse's left back leg, fingers resting on the bulbs just above the heels.

"Can I help?" Sho asked, hands on his hips.

"Know how to shoe a horse?" came the response.

"No," Sho admitted.

"Then you can't help, sheriff, sorry." It was accompanied by a smile, so Sho knew it wasn't meant to be derogatory, but he still felt a bit awkward standing off to the side watching the man at work. He was never quite sure how he should act or feel around Aiba- as deputy, the blacksmith really should have been promoted after the previous sheriff's death. Why he hadn't been, Sho didn't wholly know- nor did he know why he had been summoned when there had been an alternative within Rapid Springs already.

But Aiba had never seemed angered by the look-over, and he'd never treated Sho with anything other than cheerful respect, so Sho imagined the majority of the tension was of his own internal creation.

The blacksmith glanced over at him again, nodding and gesturing towards a stack of tools near the embers.

"Hand me the rasp?" he asked.

Sho dug through the tools until he came across what he assumed to be the correct one, and set it in Aiba's waiting hand. He watched as the man smoothed down the edge of the hoof where it met the metal of the shoe with easy precision, and then stepped back when Aiba stood again, dusting his palms off on his apron.

"Did you need something?" he asked, in a way that was neither accusing nor suspicious; Aiba had a way of speaking that tended to bring ease, like he had no demands of other people. Sho had really never met anyone as automatically trusting as the blacksmith, especially back home, where corruption seemed to be everywhere, but Aiba floated through Rapid Springs with a smile and the good graces of nearly everyone else living there.

"Just thought I would check in," Sho said.

"Always vigilant," Aiba laughed, and moved to the forge again.

"Figure they're paying me to do something 'round here, right?" Sho agreed, with a smirk. He sat on one of the crates a little off to the side of the fire, so the heat wasn't blowing straight into his face. Watching Aiba work was interesting- sometimes the man would just stop in the middle of something, as if struck by a genius idea, and would go off and tinker with something else for awhile instead. There seemed to be very little rhyme or reason to his workings, and his unpredictability made observing him all the more amusing.

"For what it's worth," Aiba called, over his shoulder, "I think you're doing a good job."

The compliment pleased him more than he thought it would.

"Thank you," he answered, touched. "I- well, I'm trying."

"Out here, that's usually all that counts," Aiba laughed. He grabbed a large poker and stuck it in the embers, wiggling them around until the bright spots of orange flared up brighter and made popping noises.

"I don't think Ninomiya likes me very much," Sho mused, after a little while of watching the blacksmith continue working on melding something out of iron over the heat. He bit his bottom lip, examining the dirt permanantly encrusted between his fingernails.

"Ninomiya doesn't really like anyone," the other man replied. He wheezed a bit when the smoke got particularly thick around his form, waving it away.

"Seems an odd profession for someone who doesn't like people," Sho said.

"Well-" Aiba started, and then stopped, all movement in his form stilling. There was a long moment of quiet when it seemed like he was going to say something, but in the end, he just smiled a bit and shook his head in Sho's direction, resuming his ministrations to the tools over the fire. "Mmm."

It was an affirmation, but a dismissive one, and still feeling a bit out of place, Sho didn't want to push it. He hoisted himself up to his feet again, sticking his hands in his pockets. His thumb brushed across his gun holster, and it made him feel a bit better- more secure, anyway, and that was worth a lot past the Mississippi.

"Anyway," Sho said, without anything better to insert into the tension, "I think I'll go see what Doc Ogura is up to, then."

"Come back if you need any help with holdin' up laws, okay?" Aiba replied.

"Got it," Sho said, with a nod. "Thanks."

He left the blacksmith working over the embers, and trudged back into the midday sun.

\-------

His register was filling, and soon he’d have to move some of the cash to his safe in his back office. He was nearly out of booze, but Ohno had been kind enough to donate from his own stores. It helped when your best friend owned the only general store within ten miles.

Nino never had great nights because someone always let loose their stomach contents on his freshly scrubbed floorboards or tried to pass off a fake coin or two, but at the very least he could count this as a good night. A group of about twenty men had arrived at half past nine, and it was past midnight now. Every single one of his girls was occupied in the rooms upstairs while down here, there were clouds of cigar smoke, raucous laughter and the sound of poker chips clinking on wood.

“Hey!” one of the inebriated ruffians called. “Round over here!”

“Of course,” he said, reaching for the brandy. The boss’ right hand man, Mendoza, was at that table, and as one of the organization’s higher ups, he liked to play at respectability. Which was fine by Nino since the brandy was brought in all the way from Cincinnati and he charged three times its worth due to its scarcity out west.

He filled the glasses and brought the tray over. Mendoza gave him a hearty slap on the back when he’d set the glasses down. “You’re alright, Ninomiya, you’re alright.”

“More cigars, gentlemen?”

“Slim’s liable to burn this place to ashes the way he’s downing the juice tonight,” one of the gang at the table chuckled.

Mendoza moved his hand to Nino’s wrist, an iron grip that would be threatening if he and the Sandburg Boys didn’t get on so well. “I ever tell you I’m descended from the Aztecs and the Toltecs and the Mayas?”

The others at Mendoza’s table laughed, slapping cards down or upping the ante. “Why, I don’t believe you have Mr. Mendoza.” He had. Multiple times, and in various states of sobriety. Mendoza was from Juarez and he fancied himself a Mexican aristocrat, although anyone who saw his swaggering walk or the missing eye tooth in his smile would know he was from humbler stock. But Nino played along. It was all a game really. The whole frontier, it was all one big joke of a game.

“Yes, sir,” Mendoza went on as Nino slyly snuck a few bills from his shirt sleeve and into Mendoza’s hand. “My great great granddaddy was a Mayan chief and his wife was an Aztec princess. My blood is 100 percent pure native. Everything from the tip of Argentina to Califor-nye-ay is Mendoza land.”

“You don’t say.” Mendoza was Mexican, of Spanish stock. If there was any Indian blood in him, his skin wasn’t dark enough to show it.

“I do say, Ninomiya, I do say.” Mendoza released him, shoving the previously concealed bills roughly into the pocket of his trousers. “Thank you kindly for hosting this fine event. Rapid Springs is on the up and up, I’m sure, with a shrewd businessman keeping things on the level.”

He nodded, excusing himself back to the bar to set up another round for a different table. As he reached under the bar for another bottle of whiskey for Dakota Jack’s table, he let his fingers brush the barrel of the shotgun strapped underneath. Fortunes could change at any time, and he didn’t need unruly bandits tearing up his establishment. As he poured another batch of drinks, May came hopping down the steps, still pulling her dress back down.

Nino felt her stick a wad of bills in his back pocket before wrapping her arms around his waist. “How we doing tonight?” she asked, gin and the smell of another man coming from her mouth.

“You gotta stop having this notion that there’s a we involved here, May,” he reprimanded her, elbowing the whore away from him. “This is my saloon, my business, and don’t you forget it.”

“Maybe you just need a drink.”

He grabbed her wrist tight and pulled her close. None of the bar patrons paid any attention. “Maybe you could find another place to spread ‘em.”

May shut up right quick, and he gave her a tap on the behind. “Mendoza’s table.” She went over and shoved her bosom right up in Mendoza’s face. Good girl. He distributed more drinks and headed back to wipe the counter down when the doors squeaked and the all too familiar and all too unwelcome sound of the sheriff’s boots met his floor.

“Evening, Mr. Ninomiya,” Sakurai said with that usual arrogance, the silver spoon he was born with shoved straight up his ass. “I see you’ve got quite a crowd tonight.” As the sheriff leaned against the bar, Nino ignored him, setting up some fresh glasses. This was not going to end well, and he caught May’s eye. She got off of Mendoza’s lap and headed for the back, leaving the gang man unsatisfied.

“Just another Saturday, Sheriff.”

Sakurai tapped the counter with his thumb. “Was over by Pastor White’s for the evening meal. His wife made a stew I’ll never forget.”

“That a fact?” Nino could immediately tell that the noise in the saloon had gone from boisterous to a cemetery as soon as the man with the star waltzed on in.

“And Pastor White was kind enough to give me a summary of tomorrow’s…” He paused for what he probably imagined was dramatic purposes, looking at the clock in the corner by the piano. “I’m sorry, I mean today’s sermon. On the evils of gambling, alcohol, whoring, all that business.”

Nino saw some of the men start gathering their chips and putting out their cigars. “Pastor White’s got a lot of fire and brimstone.”

“That he does,” the sheriff muttered. “That he does.”

He watched Mendoza snap his fingers and half the group was out the swinging doors before Nino could call them back. This bastard, this green, wet behind the ears Yankee was playing big man in town just because he bought himself a star from the territorial government. And it was going to leave Ninomiya in the poor house.

“Can I get you something, sheriff?”

Sho watched the last of the men depart, some of them half tumbling down the steps, pulling their trousers back up. “No, I’m so full I could pass out right here. I was just wondering what all the hubbub was over here. Since I was walking home from Pastor White’s, you know.”

“Right.”

The sheriff gave him that perfect smile, fixed real pretty like by one of them dentists back east. “Will I see you in church tomorrow, Mr. Ninomiya?”

“If I can make it,” he replied through gritted teeth.

“Hope you can. It should be a rousing sermon.” With that, without saying word one to any of the saloon’s customers, Sheriff Sakurai tipped his hat and departed with a bounce in his step.

As soon as the sheriff was clear of his property, Nino grabbed a glass from the counter and smashed it against the wall.


	2. Chapter 2

Jun's head was throbbing from the excess of whiskey the night before. It was nothing new, but in the summer sun it felt worse than usual, and he tried to keep in the shadows of the train depot as best he could, leaning against the wall. The cigar helped, but only a little- and the men loitering near his position were louder than they needed to be.

"Lucky job," one of them was saying, with a tone that said otherwise. "Rich folk comin' out here like it's a vacation."

"Bite your tongue," the other said, taking a quick swig of his flask when the train hands weren't looking. "Get paid better by rich 'uns than by prigs."

Jun breathed out a lungful of smoke slowly, watching the fog linger around his head in long, thin strings. The two men finally took a notice of him; they were stupid to be just now realizing there was someone listening in on their conversation. It meant they were unobservant- but not necessarily dumb, and Jun knew the importance of the difference. He let his fingers fall from the figurado between his lips and moved his arm; the motion caused his poncho to rise, displaying his belt, and, by association, the holsters residing on it.

He tended to get recognized when folks noticed him, and he wasn't aimin' to get recognized til after the job was done. The revolvers snug against his hips would keep the men off his back until the task at hand was finished, and that was all he needed.

The two hired hands fell into silence, and Jun was glad for it.

The train's whistle signaled its arrival long before the billows of smoke did, and once the iron horse slowed down to a crawl and eventual stop, Jun pushed himself out from the shadows and onto the raised platform. The job was to escort a family from Philadelphia to one of the larger towns near Santa Fe; a mining town, sprung up around the silver ore discovered, that proved to be a lure for many an Eastern city-dweller. Jun hadn't seen a lick of silver yet, but he wasn't about to tell any of the prospectors that.

The woman was the first one off- high collar, large broach, white gloves. Typical, and older than most who ventured west. Her husband followed, escorting a boy no older than ten. Family out to improve their fortunes; though by the look of the pristine state of their clothes, their fortunes didn't need much improving.

Jun reached automatically for the chests, and silently followed the family to the stagecoach waiting on the other side of the station.

The two men from the platform were the hired drivers. They kept the conversation up, asking about the family's life back in Philadelphia, and what they planned on doing once they were in Pinos Altos- Jun would have liked to sleep, but nodding off with a shotgun in his hands at the back of a stagecoach seemed like a stupid way to lose out on almost certain wages.

"-so rough out here," the wife was saying, wrinkling her nose and picking at her gloves a bit. "I certainly hope that someone can keep things organized."

"Ma'am, the sheriffs 'round these parts do that," one of the hireds answered.

"If they are anything like you, I cannot see that helping matters," she sniffed. Jun snorted, and managed to muffle the sound by inhaling deeper on his cigar.

"Some are," the driver said. "But some- well, they come from out East, like you folks."

"Yeah, what was that place with the new sheriff?" the other asked. "Real idealistic bloke, young?"

"Ah, shit," the driver huffed. There was a moment of silence, and Jun adjusted his grip on his shotgun, watching the horizon line behind them for signs of movement. The trip to Pinos Altos wasn't too far, but a good enough distance from the nearest town to be open for bandit attack. His trigger finger hadn't seen action for awhile, and he was content with that. The last thing he wanted to see was Indian feathers in the distance, and the war whoop that accompanied them.

"Rapid Springs," the driver said, snapping his fingers. "That's it- Rapid Springs. Got that federal appointee."

"Shoot, that was ages ago," his partner scoffed. There was a scuffle, like he was smacking the driver- but Jun's breath had caught in his throat, and his chest had constricted. Just the name had been enough to summon all the memories unbidden to his mind, all over again. The beige horizon blurred until he managed to breathe again, sucking in hot air that burned when he swallowed it too quickly.

He dropped his cigar, too, and it rolled a couple of times in the sand before fading out of sight in the wheel tracks.

"Well, I hope he's doing good there," the Yankee man said, with a note of finality, and that was it- the conversation moved to discussions about the mines in the area, and the missions that had sprung up along the railroad tracks.

But it took a very long time for Jun's breathing to even out, and even longer to push the nostalgia out of his thoughts.

\------

“Ouch, that hurts!”

“Not as much as it would if it got infected and I had to saw your arm off,” Doc Ogura mumbled, looking through his half-moon glasses as he stitched the wound. “Besides, you’re the sheriff. You’re not gonna let some little cut drain you of your manhood, are ya?"

Sho frowned, looking away from the oozing wound and the needle and thread stitching it closed. He wished he had something alcoholic to numb the pain, but Doc Ogura said the bottle in his drawer was for him, not for patients. It was often hard for Sho to admit it, but he tended towards the clumsier side of things.

He’d been in the jail cell, cleaning up a pretty nasty shit stain Old Harry had left behind the night prior. Old Harry had been wandering the streets, drunk and shouting, and Sho had locked him up. Of course, being in the next room all night had kept him from sleeping, so between the smell and his exhaustion, he’d slipped and fallen, cutting his arm on a spring sticking out of the cell’s mattress. A nice shirt ruined and his arm was going to ache for days.

A sheriff’s life wasn’t as glamorous as all the dime novels had promised. Sure, Rapid Springs was small and he knew everyone’s face by now. And he’d done his share of fighting corruption, getting less than desirables to vacate Ninomiya’s saloon or chase down people that tried to steal extra horseshoes from Aiba’s place. But then there was dealing with Old Harry and settling disputes about pricing of merchandise at the baker’s dry goods store. He felt more like a caretaker for grown men who could barely keep track of themselves.

“I’ll put a bit of bandaging round here,” Doc Ogura said, snipping the end of the stitching with a pair of dull scissors from his black leather medical bag. “Just don’t lift your left arm if you can help it. Might tear open again.”

“Thanks, Doc,” he mumbled, rolling his bloodied sleeve down as soon as Ogura was finished. “Don’t go telling anyone what happened, if you don’t mind.”

The Doc chuckled, taking off his glasses and putting them on his desk. “Ain’t nothing to be ashamed of, sheriff. Injured in the line of duty. And besides, it could be worse. Last week, I had a guy from the next town over come in about some itching in his nether parts. Man was too embarrassed to see the local medic and he rode all the way here. All that bouncing in the saddle couldn’t have felt too good.”

Sho sighed, shaking his head. “It’s a strange world out here.” In Boston, there were so many people, all piled on top of one another. His own neighborhood hadn’t been too crowded, a few blocks north of Harvard Yard, but it was still a bustling metropolis and out here, well, your neighbors were a bit farther away.

The doctor stretched, wiping the sweat from his face with a handkerchief. “Heard you caught some of the Sandburg boys playing cards the other night?”

He felt a wave of pride come over him. He hadn’t even had to address them – his mere presence in Ninomiya’s saloon had been enough to send those criminals straight to where their horses were tied and back out of town. They’d be back, Sho wagered. Lowlifes always made for the best bar patrons. Maybe he’d have to take a firmer stand next time.

“Sure did,” he bragged. “Walked right in the door. Now they were just playing cards and drinking, so I couldn’t exactly go in and arrest them. But they were making a lot of noise that Sable Johnson came out of her house to complain. That’s really all I needed.”

Ogura leaned back in his chair, fanning himself with an old newspaper. “Don’t you worry what Ninomiya’s gonna think, you driving away his clientele and all that?”

He shook his head and laughed. “Maybe Ninomiya needs better clientele. We have families here in Rapid Springs. A church full of god-fearing parishioners every Sunday. But not a one of those folks goes to Ninomiya’s, despite advertising on their sign outside for meals. And you know why? Because of the folks that patronize his business.”

“Sure.”

“So for all I hear he complains about his finances, he could do more to attract the right kind of customer. It’s not my place to run his business, but it is my place to see that Rapid Springs is a safe place to live.”

Ogura set down the newspaper. “How long you been practicing that, sheriff?”

Sho sputtered, nearly stumbling off of the doctor’s table. “I didn’t…I don’t practice what I say.”

“Sure, sure.” There was a knock at the door, and Ohno wandered in. “Ah, Mr. Ohno, what’s troubling you today?”

The usually calm, quiet store owner merely held up a hand with a cut on the palm. “Dropped a box.”

That was Sho’s cue to leave. “Thanks again, Doc. Mr. Ohno.” He went back out into the dry, nasty heat, trying to ignore the throbbing pain in his arm.

Did he practice? Well maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. Not everyone had to turn into an illiterate, cursing good for nothing once he crossed the Mississippi. He wandered past Ninomiya’s saloon, seeing a few ranchers sipping sweet tea at the counter. The bar owner was out of sight, and Sho felt a twisting in his belly. There was a problem in Rapid Springs, and that problem was Ninomiya.

\-------

She was screaming.

It was high-pitched and terrifying, almost inhuman sounding; it split his head and made his ears ring, and he couldn't throw his hands up to block the sound because he couldn't move. They had her by the hair, dragging her along in the sands- she'd been hurt, she'd been cut, and she was leaving angry red trails on the granules as she was tugged through them. Everything was dark, including their skin, but under the moonlight it was all still visible, and it took on an eerie, other-worldly glow that wrenched at his stomach.

She clawed at the hands holding her hair, and one of them kicked at her, hard, in the side- her screams stopped for a moment as she gasped for air like a horse did when it knew it was to be put down. She knew- she had to know, just like he knew, just like the realization was tearing through his stomach like hot bile and choking him, clogging his throat and his chest.

And then she shrieked again as the red arms came down with a knife to her throat, and he screamed with her-

-and woke up to pounding on his bedroom door. Automatically, flying on pure reflex, his own knife was in his hands, grabbed from under the mattress; it wasn't a shotgun, but if worse came down to it, he could throw the damn thing and get pretty close to an important organ.  He jumped, bare feet pattering across the floor, to fling open the door with the blade outstretched.

Scarlet's wide eyes awaited him once his vision cleared.

"Shit," Nino gasped, lowering his arm; all at once, the fire caught up with him, a rush in his ears that muffled out all other noise. "What the hell have I told you about waking me up?"

"I- I'm sorry," Scarlet stammered. Without the powder on her cheeks or kohl around her eyes, she looked older- wearier. Maybe they all did when woken in the dead of night, but Nino didn't have a mirror nearby to confirm with. "There's a man outside, one of Mendoza's gang- he wants to talk to you."

Suddenly, he was glade for the knife in his fingers.

"Mendoza's boy?" he repeated.

"Says- says it's urgent," she whispered. She flattened herself back against the far wall away from him, but he didn't have time to waste on alleviating her fears- he could deal with skittish whores later, once the trash was off his property. He grabbed for his trousers, buckling them even as he went down the stairs. He stopped by the bar before reaching the door- the shotgun felt a good deal safer in his hands than the blade did. He checked the cartridge for rounds, and moved to the door.

"What?" he asked, crossly, at the man waiting on the other side.

"You broke your word," Mendoza's man hissed. There was the stink of whiskey on his breath, but he was staying upright well-enough on his own; not enough to get him drunk, at least, which didn't bode well for Nino. If Mendoza was keeping his men sober enough to fight, he had a problem on his hands he didn't particularly want to deal with.

"I promised you nothing," Nino replied, tapping the barrel of the gun against his shoulder a few times. "And you tell your boss that- I said I'd hold the game, and I did."

"The sheriff-" the man started.

"Horse shit," Nino spat. "You boys knew 'bout the sheriff comin' in here, and you came anyway. It's not my fault that he showed up and you ran like scared dogs with your tails between your legs. Don't come crying to me 'cause you don't have the balls to stick around when he pokes his nose in your business."

Mendoza's man seemed to consider this, and Nino kept his finger on the trigger in case the considering went the wrong way.

"Reward ain't good enough no more," he said, finally.

"What reward?"

"Comin' here ain't worth dealing with him," the man said.

"Are you giving me an ultimatum?" Nino asked. Across the way, one of the lanterns flickered on at the general store- Ohno was awake, then, or had at least heard the confrontation outside. If he'd heard, there was no telling who else was woken by the argument, and the last thing Nino needed was the entire town up in his business. He had his hands full with Sho.

"Mendoza said we won't do business with you 'til the sheriff is taken care of," came the answer.

"Mendoza said that?" Nino repeated forcefully.

"From his own lips."

Nino stared up at the lantern in Ohno's window. So far the curtains hadn't been opened; Ohno tended to keep out of things that weren't his, but there was a limit to how long he could keep his curiosity from overflowing. And as of yet, there weren't any other lights flickering on, but Nino wasn't willing to press his luck.

"Fine," he ground out, through his clenched jaw. "I'll deal with it."

It satisfied Mendoza's man, or at least enough that he started to amble away. Nino didn't know how he'd gotten there, or where his horse was, or that he was stupid enough to ride through the desert at night; he didn't care about anything else other than shutting the front door to the saloon and locking the metal bar with a satisfying clang. He didn't even return the shotgun to its usual resting spot, opting to take the weapon upstairs with him.

He met Scarlet halfway up, seated on the steps with what looked like the remnants of tears dusting her cheeks.

"What are you gonna do?" she asked, when he moved to go past her without slowing.

"Don't know," he answered curtly.

"We gonna stay here? Nino?"

"Don't know," he said again, and stomped the rest of the way up to his bedroom to slam the door with a violent bang.

\--------

He hoisted the batch of hay, sweat coursing down his brow. Nagase had a thousand head of cattle and at least fifty hands, but this was a special delivery today. Jun set the hay down with the others before checking to see if any of the other ranchers had followed him into the barn.

His gloves stopped at the wrist and the hay was bundle fairly tight. It scratched up his arm as he dug his hand straight through the center, feeling around for the package within. He didn’t much care what it was. In these situations, it was usually a cash payment for services rendered, and said services were usually illegal in these United States, but so long as he got paid at the end of it all, it didn’t matter.

Jun’s hand closed around the envelope, and he pulled it clear of the hay, brushing off a few itchy bits of the stuff before heading for the barn exit. The next kid bringing in hay set it down on top of the one he’d just disturbed, oblivious. The main house was a good walk from the barn, and the sun was unforgiving as always. Nagase was waiting on his porch, idly swatting at flies when he arrived.

“Mr. Matsumoto.”

“Mr. Nagase.”

The older man, tall with skin tanned permanently from years working outdoors with his cattle, offered Jun a glass of water. No matter the weather, Nagase always wore his Confederate officer’s jacket. Rumor had it that he’d only been a lieutenant, but he’d been at Glorieta Pass in ’62 and snagged himself a captain’s jacket. The blood stained brass buttons had never been cleaned, and nobody knew if the stains were from the war or from more recent skirmishes. Either way, Nagase wasn’t someone to mess with.

“Sit a spell,” the man said, accepting the envelope Jun held out. He remained standing but accepted the water gratefully.

“I trust everything was delivered to your satisfaction,” he remarked as Nagase counted the bills in the envelope.

Nagase nodded. “I don’t keep cheats and thieves in my employ. Sit down already, I have a proposition.”

He was fixing to get out of there. If Nagase was getting cash for some deal, there was no doubt the government would be breathing down his neck one of these days. He didn’t need to stick around for a long job if the government might come poking their noses around. But Nagase was a powerful man in this part of the territory, and Jun knew being amenable to the man’s wishes would keep him alive another day.

So he sat down. “You’re quiet,” Nagase said. “You do the job, you’re on time, and you don’t try to skim off the top.”

He nodded. He’d never much cared what the job was so long as he made enough to move along to the next one without starving. Moving around, going from job to job, payment to payment kept the devil away. The devil that gnawed at his heart and his mind, the one who made the scar on his shoulder ache, the bullet scar that would never go away and never let him forget. That same devil who tinkered with his dreams, filling his ears with screams and his vision with blood-spattered dirt and the tipped wagon.

“I’ve got a few head of cattle to sell to a gentleman in Rapid Springs, south of the new rail line.” Jun froze in place while Nagase kept speaking. “I need you to travel with my boys, make sure no Indians get any ideas about stealing them.”

He downed the rest of the water before shaking his head, feeling the itching in his shoulder like the devil himself was gnawing at it. “I’ve got another job. Quinn up in Shoemaker’s already hired me.” Lying to Nagase was a bad move, especially when enjoying his hospitality and his water, but this was a job he would not take.

“Quinn’s a drunk and a liar. I’ll double what he’s paying you.”

Jun shook his head. “I don’t break my contracts, written or verbal, Mr. Nagase.”

“I’ll triple it, and you’ll lodge with me until it’s time for the job.”

He stood, trying not to shake in his boots at the shrewd way Nagase was sizing him up. “Your offer’s mighty fine, sir, but I have an obligation to Mr. Quinn. I’ll be happy to do any other job you have coming up, but Mr. Quinn’s got me for the next…”

“You think I don’t know about Rapid Springs, Matsumoto?” Jun chewed on his lip. “You think I haven’t done my studying about you?”

“Sir, I don’t mean any offense…”

“I know you don’t, kid.” Jun’s vision went red. He was nearly twenty-six – he was no kid. “But the fact remains that you’re just ensuring the safe passage of my merchandise and my boys. You ain’t gotta shake hands with the townsfolk.”

He looked at his boots. “I don’t take jobs in Rapid Springs.”

Nagase moved the worn gray jacket aside, revolver gleaming. “You take ‘em as far as the blacksmith’s shop, are we clear?”

His scar itched and his blood boiled, but there was no turning down this man unless you wanted to take up work five hundred miles away. “Mr. Nagase, please don’t make me…”

“The blacksmith’s shop.”

He’d lost. But so had the south, and Nagase knew something about losing battles. Jun nodded wordlessly, heart racing at the thought of the steeple on the whitewashed church, the dry goods store and the saloon across the way.

Nagase stood, giving him a handful of cash without counting it. He slapped him hard on the back. “You’ll be staying here tonight. I’m sending the boys down to Rapid Springs in two days. Go take a bath.”

It had been four years since he’d been there. Four years trying to forget, but it was all flooding back. He pocketed the cash and followed Nagase into the house.

\-------

The sun was on its descent back towards the horizon line when Nino heard the shouting begin outside the saloon doors. He would have ignored it- because the last thing he was fixing to do was get involved in more altercations- but he picked out the sheriff's voice immediately, and from the hitching accent of the others- Mendoza's men, the lot of them. He grabbed for the shotgun under the bar, but left it by the side of the doorframe as he exited; he wasn't stupid enough to walk out into the middle of an argument with his weapon drawn.

The Sandburg Boys were standing down the street, trousers dusty and boots filthy. There were three of them, all steady on their feet and obviously itching for a show-down, and Mendoza wasn't one of them. Guns hadn't been drawn yet, but even from his vantage point Nino could see the fingers twitching towards the holsters. Sho was closer to him, a few feet away from the saloon doors, staring down the gang boys 'cross the way.

"Fine time we run you outta town, sheriff," one of the boys called, and Nino let his gaze linger on them a moment longer. He hadn't yet come up with a way to get Sho off his back, and he hadn't been aware that there was a time limit on his actions- apparently, that fact had failed to be communicated properly. Either Mendoza had a hankering for keeping Nino's saloon in his rotation more than he let on, or Sheriff Sakurai had irritated him beyond just Saturday night.

Nino hung back, near the doorframe. If he sided with the Sandburgs, and the sheriff won, it would be the last drop in his noose 'round Rapid Springs. If he took Sho's side and the Sandburgs won- well, he'd be three feet under ground 'fore sundown, that much was sure.

So he choose neutrality, because there was only one thing he knew for certain, and that was that he had no intentions of dying yet.

\--

"I'm not figurin' to be run out yet," Sho called back. He kept his grip firmly around his shotgun, but allowed the barrel to stay tipped towards the ground. The men in the street looked to be in a fighting mood, but so far, all they'd done is threaten him- and Sho was used to being threatened. "Why don't you boys move on through, now."

"The only moving goin' on oughta be you," the one with the broad-rimmed hat shouted, pointing a slender finger in Sho's direction. "Go back home, Yankee, and leave Rapid Springs to us."

Sho pulled his shotgun up, resting the barrel in his other hand- enough to show he was serious, but not enough to start a firefight yet.

"I'll let you boys go," he said. It was a generous offer, but they didn't look to be moving anytime soon, feet firmly entrenched in the dust and dirt of the road.

"I don't think you understand," one answered. "We don't plan on letting you stay here."

"Don't think you have much authority to be lettin' anyone do anything 'round here," Sho replied, but let his gaze flicker up past their shoulders, to the blacksmith's shop at the edge of the bounds. He didn't see Aiba anywhere, and he wasn't entirely sure how to get the man's attention without alerting the Sandburgs themselves. He needed backup- and Ninomiya had not moved from his spot in the saloon's doorway, shrewdly watching the scene outside. It was his fault the gang was there in the first place, and his obvious lack of involvement made Sho's fingers tighten around the handle further. "Move along, now."

\---

The last few miles into Rapid Springs felt like they lasted a lifetime. Jun tried to keep his thoughts on anything but his re-entrance to the town he'd sworn never to return to, but the only images his mind could conjure were those of bloody tracks in the sand and mangled bodies lit by starlight- and he needed those less than he needed the anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He kept his eyes on the ground, to avoid seeing the familiar swatch of dark roof against the expanse of sky, and trudged behind the other hands to better conceal himself.

They were almost to the blacksmith's forge, and Jun just wanted to drop the cattle and leave again, but the hands in front of him stopped suddenly. He craned his neck to look over the closest one's shoulder.

Something was going on in the street. From his position, Jun could only see the backs of three figures- Mexican, by the look of their threads and ponchos- and beyond them, a lone figure holding a shotgun 'cross his chest. The star on his collar shone in the light of the setting sun. Sheriff- the new one, then, by the looks of things. Jun ducked his head down again and started to go around the ranch hands towards the open blacksmith shop; they'd managed to show up in the middle of a territorial show-down, and he wanted no part of it.

He just wanted to find Aiba- even remembering the blacksmith's name brought a rush of bile to the back of his throat- and move on.

\--

"We ain't asking you to leave," Mendoza's man in the center of their triangular position said, "we're tellin'."

Nino kept his face expressionless, but the sheriff was beginning to look a bit nervous; he kept glancing back beyond the gang to the blacksmith's shop, like he was hoping to spot Aiba and add a man to his count. If the deputy came out, he'd at least have a chance to even the odds- as it were, three against one didn't look like the fight was going to go in his favor.

Letting his fingers brush against the doorway- a quick reminder that it was his saloon, still, and all he had to fight for in order to keep it- Nino looked back towards the horizon as well. If Aiba came out, then the fight would go in a drastically different direction.

But he didn't see the deputy. Instead he saw a herd of cattle and two ranch hands staring down at the fight on the street with unabashed curiosity, and a third figure heading inside to the forge itself.

His throat closed painfully.

"I don't want any trouble with you boys," the sheriff was warning, and Nino barely registered the words- he knew the figure. He would never be able to forget the set to the shoulders or the angles of his limbs; it was firmly entrenched in his memories, resurfacing every night with the rising of the stars in the sky. It made him sick in the pit of his stomach, like he'd drank too much gin.

Fury clouded his vision, turning the sides red, and he reached for the shotgun just inside the doors without really thinking about it.

\--

"Trouble was just what we were lookin' for," one of the men said, and then jeered, displaying the rot in his teeth. And then, in the side of Sho's vision, Ninomiya was moving, hoisting his shotgun against his shoulder and bolting forward out of the doorway with the barrels squared down the way.

Sho hadn't been expecting the saloon owner to jump in on his side, but he was willing to accept the aid- though it wouldn't completely absolve Nino's involvement in the entire debacle.

"You cock-sucking son of a bitch!" Nino yelled, sounding throaty and a bit raw.

"What?" Sho asked, taken aback.

"What?" the leader of Mendoza's hunting party parroted. He sounded equally confused. But Ninomiya ignored all of them, moving forward with the liquid grace that accompanies a blind rage, a complete block of everything outside. He was still close enough to Sho's position that the sheriff could see the involuntarily tremble in his arms.

"You gotta lotta nerve waltzing back in here, you murdering scum!" Nino continued.

"Nino, back off!" Sho shouted, and just as soon as the words left his mouth he realized that Nino's barrels weren't pointed at the Sandburg Boys at all; they were pointed past them, up the road to the blacksmith's forge.

\--

"Fuck you!" It rang in Jun's ears, rang like the knells of a church bell during a funeral. It was the same thing that he'd run from the last time- the same voice, the same emotion warbling the tone, the same scene as he stared down the road into the rapidly approaching shotgun barrels. "Fuck you, you cock-sucking bastard!"

Jun's mind was frozen, but his body wasn't; when the shots rang out, his legs sprung into action without conscious thought, hurtling him to the side to shelter himself behind one of the half-walls of the shop. He rolled, and lost his hat, and flattened himself against the side of the wooden boards as the subsequent bullets start pounding the ground around him. The cattle started screeching and bolting, and the hooves were like thunder shaking the dirt, and one of the bullets pinged harsly against the wall near Jun's ear, too close for comfort.

And then, from within the structure, he could see Aiba running towards him with a revolver in his soot-covered hand.

\--

"Nino, stop it!" Sho commanded, but Ninomiya was far past listening to anything he said. He just kept shooting, and the Sandburg Boys were moving, ducking for cover and drawing their own weapons from their belt-held holsters. One of them let out a savage cry in Spanish that Sho didn't understand, and then there were three muzzles pointed in his direction and a split-second before the bullets followed.

He launched himself to the ground, behind a trough half-filled with grimy water, and the gunfire erupted around him.

"Shit," he hissed, unaware that he was saying anything at all. His nerves were on overdrive, but he was going to get stuck behind the putrid watering hole if he didn't do something, and there was really only one thing to do. He cocked his shotgun and turned, shooting over the top of the trough.

There was a cry of pain audible even over the din of bullets, and through the smoke filling the air Sho could make out at least one figure on the ground, and Nino continuing to move towards the forge.

"Shit," Sho repeated, pulling the trigger again.

\--

How Mendoza's boys hadn't hit him yet, Nino didn't know, nor did he particularly care. He couldn't see anything other than the tip of Jun's boot hidden 'round the corner of the blacksmith's wall as he moved towards it. He wasn't even aiming, really- he was shaking too badly with rage to even know where the barrels were when the shots left. And there was so much smoke, and the cry of spooked cattle, and shouting from every side of him-

-and then Aiba was in front of him with his revolver out, mouth moving before Nino heard the sound.

"Stop!" the deputy was calling, nearly tripping as he ran. "Nino, stop!"

He only lowered the shotgun because it was Aiba- it was cheerful, respectful, heedless Aiba who had always ordered an extra drink than was necessary to help Nino out, who cleaned the store room at Ohno's without being asked. He couldn't point the barrels at the blacksmith and be okay with himself, so he dropped the weapon entirely, handle slipping from his fingers as his muscles lost rigidity all at once, the air stolen from his lungs. Everything was still red- but Aiba was in front of him, and at least he'd lowered his revolver.

"Cock-sucking son of a bitch," Nino gasped, because he could hear her screaming in his head again, and he was awake.

"It's okay," Aiba said. There was another quick barrage of shots behind him, on the street, and then shouts in Spanish- retreat. Mendoza's boys were retreating; at least, the ones still standing were. Nino couldn't focus on very much but the pebbles wavering near his palms, digging into his skin.

\--

The bullets ceased around his position, and then in the street, too- the silence was almost louder than the gunfire had been in a way that rung in his ears so loudly it hurt. Jun glanced around the beam- one of the ranch hands was in the dirt, groaning and writhing, and half the cattle were gone, and he didn't know where Nagase's other man had run off to.

God, it had been stupid to return to Rapid Springs, and now the dirt was lined with specks of blood glaring harsh at him like damnation all over again.

\--

It was over, and all Sho could hear was screaming. It was like the rest of the noises in the town had died out – no spinning windmill behind the Johnson place, no idle chatter inside Ohno’s store, nothing but screaming. Aiba, trying to calm Nino. Nino, still cursing and shouting like a man possessed by some kind of demon. And the horrible sounds of cattle as they ran off like a thunderclap.

His shotgun barrel was still hot, and Sho realized that other than target practice, he’d never actually fired it before. He was the law here, and his arm was bleeding. His white sleeve was soaked through, but he ignored it, seeing one of the Sandburg gang writhing in the dirt and one of the strangers who’d just arrived with the cattle doing the same. His voice nearly caught in his throat.

“Aiba!” he screamed. “Aiba!”

He looked around, finally seeing Aiba hurrying over. For his part, Ninomiya had managed to collapse to his knees in the dirt, eyes wide in horror. “Sheriff,” Aiba cried, his breath heaving. “What the heck happened?”

“There’s no time for that.” Ninomiya had fired at the cattle and their herders or whoever they were. “Get him in a cell. Right now.”

“But Sheriff, he’s under control…”

Sho gave his deputy a shove. “I said get him in a cell now, damn it. And confiscate the weapon. Lock it up.” He’d never been short with Aiba before, but the other man seemed to realize the severity of what had just gone down. He nodded, racing back to haul Nino to his feet.

His arm ached but he managed to get to Doc Ogura’s place. Sho banged on the door. “Doc! Doc! The shooting’s stopped, but we got two men hurt. Doc, come out!”

The Doc answered in seconds, medical bag in hand. “What the hell is going on?”

“Skirmish,” he explained, unconsciously leading the doctor first to the injured ranch hand. “Sandburg boys starting trouble when these boys and some cattle showed up. Ninomiya comes flying outta his place in a rage and starts shooting. Sandburgs join in and I returned fire but…”

Ogura was already kneeling down at the rancher, his hands becoming stained with blood as he felt for a pulse. “This one’s already gone, sheriff.” Sho felt his heart sink. He didn’t know what these men were in town for, but they’d come at the worst possible time. And now this one had paid the ultimate price.

The doctor got to his feet slowly, since he was getting up there in years. Sho followed the man to the Sandburg fellow, and that was when Sho wanted to be sick. The young man’s hand was blown nearly clean off, and his shirt front was soaked in blood. He dropped the shotgun he was still carrying, realizing that he’d done all the disfiguring. And the boy was still alive.

“Jesus, Jesus, ayudame. Dios, ayudame,” he was mumbling, crying, feeling for his other hand with the one that was still intact. “Mama!”

“He’s nothing more than a boy,” Ogura said, standing over the bandit. “Sheriff, who…”

“Me,” he admitted. “I was the only one firing their way. I…I had to…”

“Nobody’s accusing you of anything,” the older man reassured him. “We need to move him…I can try and get the bullets out but his hand…”

Sho felt a fresh wave of nausea, and even with the sun setting it was still hot. There was nobody else on the street. The townsfolk stayed in their homes, and Aiba was busy getting Nino in lock-up. He spied just one solitary man, the one Nino had been cursing at. Sho didn’t recognize him, but he was the only help available.

“You! Get over here!” The other man barely reacted, fumbling his fingers shakily across the dirt to retrieve his hat. Sho noticed a rather nasty looking bullet hole through the brim of it. He walked over, kicking up the soil. “You hear me? Get up! We need to get this man inside so the Doc can patch him up!”

The other man finally looked up, and Sho had never seen a man look so lost in his whole life. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

“Well it’s too late for that,” Sho replied, ignoring the pain in his arm to grab the other man by the sleeve of his long duster and hauling him up. He wasn’t much taller, but his features were sharper, testament to a hard life lived out here on the frontier.

“Can’t help you…need to get the cattle.”

Sho started to physically drag the man over to where Ogura was waiting anxiously. “Don’t think those cows are coming back, son. Now get over here and help.” He grabbed the kid under his arms and the man with the hole in his hat got the legs.

“Mama…por favor, Mama…”

The sheriff bit his tongue to keep from letting out a scream of frustration. Why couldn’t he have just killed this boy? Now he was suffering something awful, and it was all his fault. And word would get back to Mendoza, who would relay it to his boss, Sandburg, and Rapid Springs was going to be facing a heap of trouble.

Ogura had the door open and had them bypass his usual office space to lay the kid down on his own bed sheets. Sho had blood on his hands, all over his clothes, his own mingled with the blood of the youth he’d shot. “Hand’s not going to make it,” the doc announced, departing the room and leaving Sho with the other man.

Sho could barely concentrate. He knew he had to ask the man who he was, where he’d come from, what the deal was with the cattle. But all he could hear was the boy begging in Spanish to be helped, begging for his mother. All he could say was “don’t go anywhere” when the other man tried to leave. He needed to get the full story so he could report back to the territorial government about what the hell happened.

The doctor returned with a gleaming handsaw, and Sho nearly doubled over. “Doc, you aren’t…”

“This boy ain’t gonna use that hand again.”

Sho closed his eyes. The boy wasn’t going to breathe for much longer with all the holes in him. Couldn’t the doc just give him something for the pain and kill him quick? Sho’d failed to give the boy a merciful, quick death, and now he’d have to watch what his failure had brought.

“You never shot anyone before,” the other man finally spoke. “Have you?”

He turned to see the other man’s cold eyes, unblinking, sizing him up the same way the Sandburg boys had. “No, I haven’t,” he admitted honestly.

Ogura pointed to Sho’s middle. “Belt. Take it off.”

“What? Why?”

“You’ll see,” the other man noted darkly, and Sho undid the buckle with trembling, sticky fingers.

He held the belt out for the doctor, who shook his head. “No, get that in his mouth. Let him bite it.” Sho paled, moving to stand behind the headboard, awkwardly positioning himself by the boy, getting the leather belt in his mouth as he kept crying for his mother.

“Hold his legs,” the doctor ordered the other man, who obeyed as if he’d been in this sort of situation time and time again.

The sound the boy made when the saw first cut through bone was never going to leave Sho’s mind. He was seeing spots, concentrating on the leather in the boy’s mouth, and he was going to faint if Ogura-san didn’t get that limb off quicker.

“Tighter. Hold the legs tighter.”

“Mama!” the boy cried, voice distorted from the belt between his lips.

“Just slit his throat, doc,” the other man argued. “Hacking his hand ain’t gonna stop the holes in his chest from bleeding out.”

“We have to try…” Sho heard himself say, although he didn’t feel like he was really there. “We have to…” This boy would never see his mama again. For all that he was caught up in a gang of bandits, they had to save him.

“He’s suffering, Sheriff. Doc, come on.”

Ogura said nothing, and Sho listened to the saw finish its work. The boy had passed out, and Sho was about to follow him. “He’s out,” Sho announced, seeing the doctor’s pristine bed sheets soaked through with the boy’s life.

There was the sound of boots and then Aiba appeared in the doorway. The blacksmith’s skin went green almost immediately at the sight of the doctor’s bedroom. “Sheriff, Ninomiya’s secure…uhhhh, what should I do from here?”

Sho couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate. “You…Aiba, could you…”

The other man let the dying kid’s legs go and moved to the door, and Sho watched, numb, as he pat the deputy on the shoulder. “Go house to house, tell them all the shooting’s over for now. Reassure them that your sheriff has things under control.”

“Don’t…Aiba, he’s…” Sho could barely form a sentence. There was so much blood, and now Doc Ogura was cutting open the boy’s shirt with a knife and there was blood oozing from everywhere. He couldn’t be more than fifteen or sixteen, he thought. You did this to him. You did this.

“Sheriff…who…” Aiba mumbled.

“Jun Matsumoto,” the other man said briefly.

Aiba was still looking for answers, looking between him and this Matsumoto, and Sho could only watch Ogura digging around in the boy’s flesh with some kind of medical tool, poking around for fragments of bullets.

“Deputy Aiba, go house to house…tell them…”

His deputy merely nodded. “You got it, sheriff.” Aiba’s footsteps were heavy as Sho listened to him retreat.

“Doc, you need us?” Matsumoto asked. Ogura shook his head, and Sho let the belt go. He didn’t want to watch this boy get cut to pieces. Was he even going to make it? Jun took off, and Sho stumbled after him, into the doctor’s regular office.

“Wait.”

“I need to find the cattle. I was…” He stopped speaking, eyeing Sho suspiciously. “I can’t stay here and keep doing your job, sheriff.”

Sho quaked in anger. Who was this guy, telling him what to do? Rapid Springs was his responsibility. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Matsumoto made it to the doc’s door and opened it. “I’m going to find the cattle.” Sho watched him go through the door, only pausing to look back at him one more time with those calculating eyes. “Your arm’s bleeding something awful, sheriff. Might wanna get that mended.”

The door slammed closed, and Sho sighed. He felt a hand on his shoulder minutes later, and Ogura’s even, always calm voice.

“Boy’s gone.”


	3. Chapter 3

The cattle were gone.

Nothing, not more than hoof prints in the half-sand dirt lining the outskirts of Rapid Springs, and his prospects of staying alive had diminished significantly. One of Nagase's ranch hands was dead, the other missing; in one fell swoop Jun's life had gone from passably bearable to undeniably fucked. He stood staring out at the horizon past the town's borders and tried not to concentrate on the knot of dread in his belly, on flashbacks to Nagase's pistol and the blood on the uniform's half-rusted buttons.

He had half a mind to set out right then. If he got back soon enough, maybe he could explain what had happened- he'd practically begged not to have to return, and all he'd gotten for his troubles were bullets flying at his head.

There were footsteps behind him, and he turned. He wasn't expecting to see Ohno a few feet behind him, hands in his apron pockets.

"Come to jeer?" Jun asked, tiredly, looking back out to the setting sun, streaming in over the rolling hills of sand. "Or do you have a few bullets with my name on them as well?"

Ohno didn't answer right away, but took a few steps forward to follow Jun's gaze across the expanse.

"You runnin' again?" he asked, finally, breaking the quiet.

"I didn't run the first time," Jun snapped.

"Legs moved pretty fast for not running," Ohno replied, easily; he shrugged a bit, hands still deep in his pockets. He looked unconcerned, shoulders slumped forward. Jun bit back a mirthless laugh.

"Being chased has a way of increasing one's speed."

"Still runnin'," Ohno said, and Jun wanted to hit him- his patience was fried, his nerves were still screaming, and his ears were ringing with old haunts mingling with new memories. He was in no mood to deal with flippant shop keepers, let alone ones poking at his raw wounds with a stick.

"What would you have had me do?" Jun asked, tone bordering on predatory. It didn't seem to phase Ohno, but very little ever did.

The other man just shrugged again, the repeated action more pronounced the second time. "Gotta turn around and face it sometime, don't you?"

"Not when turning means taking a shot to the face."

There was a stretch of silence, and Jun could feel the other man's disapproval in the air. It settled around his shoulders and pushed, heavy and damning.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," Jun murmured, shaking his head.

"No," Ohno agreed, "but eventually you'll have to reconcile with yourself."

"I didn't do anything wrong," Jun cried, whirling on him. His hands were balled into fists so tight his nails were digging into the flesh of his palms, re-igniting his blood to boil all over again.

And Ohno just leveled him with an even gaze, unflinching even when Jun was ready to rail against him with all the strength he had left.

"Never said you did."

Jun stared at him for several long moments. The sun burned against the sky like the devil's laughing face, and it stung at his eyes; the dust, still roiling with smoke from the gunfire, was everywhere, making it difficult to breathe. Jun sucked in several burning lungfuls of air, and his heart sank a bit when there were more footsteps, and the clearing of a throat.

"Feel like clearin' up a few things?" the sheriff asked, and Jun didn't bother to turn around to face him. "Got some questions I'd like to ask."

"Bet you do," Jun mumbled.

"Look, I'm not really in the mood to argue," the sheriff said, and he laughed a little in a decidedly un-joyful manner. "Let me rephrase. Come with me to the station, because I'm going to interrogate you now."

Jun should have run when he had the chance. He should have ignored Ohno and thrown himself into the harshnes of the desert, because he would have fared better in the freezing night than he was going to in Rapid Springs. The whole damn town was just a giant ravine he was going to get lost in, unable to find his way out again, and unable to stop looking back.

There was a hand on his elbow, and he could feel the sheriff's muscles shaking as his grip tightened.

"Let's go," the law-maker said, and hauled him away from the nothingness towards the center of town once more.

\---------

Matsumoto was laughing under his breath as Sho dragged him to his place. “You think this is a big joke?” he said, tightening his grip on the man's arm.

“You put me in there with Ninomiya, and I'm a dead man. You leave me out here, and I'm a dead man.” Matsumoto dragged his feet as Sho pulled him up the steps. “Whatever you do or don't do, Sheriff, I have a target on my back.”

“Don't much care,” he replied bitterly, kicking the door open and seeing Nino jump to his feet and grip the bars.

“I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!” Nino seethed. “Put him on in here, Sheriff, and I'll save you the trouble!”

“Watch your tongue, Ninomiya. I'm not done with you yet.” He watched Jun's eyes hit the floor, his face darkening. In anger? In shame? Sho couldn't tell. He stood still, keeping hold of Jun and met Nino's angry face. “You've caused me a heap of trouble today. You wanna fill me in on why you and Mr. Matsumoto don't see eye to eye?”

“He's a murderer!”

“That so?”

Jun said nothing as Nino spat in his direction. The saliva made it about halfway across the room, landing on the dusty floorboard. Nino scowled. “Bastard.”

Sho sighed. He wasn't getting a word out of Nino so long as Jun was in the room with him, and putting the two together would definitely end with one or both dead. Damn this place, he thought, only gracing him with one measly jail cell. “You sit tight,” he told Nino, thinking quickly. He hauled Jun forward, past Nino and into his living space.

Jun looked confused as Sho let go of him. “You're dead in the cell and dead outside. But maybe you'll keep in here,” he told Matsumoto. The other man stayed silent as Sho headed back into the other room, finding a decent pair of shackles. This wasn't his wisest decision, but it was the only one he had available. Both men had information, and neither would talk so long as they had the other in their sights.

“You should leave him for the vultures,” Nino told him. “Let me put a bullet between his eyes, and save you the ammo, Sheriff.”

“What'd he do? Rip you off?” Sho asked, hands on his hips. “Mess up one of your girl's faces?” He got up close until he could see the dark circles under Nino's eyes and he smirked. He was feeling a little mean, given the day's unpleasantness. “Oh, I know. It's awful lonesome out here. I bet you played a little Sodom and Gomorrah, and he never called on you again.”

Nino gripped the bars tighter, eyes raging. “Fuck you.”

Sho laughed bitterly. “Maybe if you cleared this all up, I wouldn't have to go insinuating things about your character.”

He went back into his room and slammed the door. Matsumoto was looking at the stack of books Sho kept on the top of his dresser. “You read?” he asked the other man, and Jun shook his head.

“Not a lot of leisure time.”

He rattled the handcuffs. “Can't trust you to stay put. But I can't just let you run off before you tell me what the hell's going on here.”

Jun raised an eyebrow, and Sho felt an uneasiness in his belly. He was in charge here, not this guy. Just because he was a bit green didn't make his star any less meaningful. He was about eye level with Matsumoto, give or take an inch, and it was times like these that he wished he was taller, wished he looked a little rougher around the edges. Wished he could look the slightest bit intimidating for once.

“I was here to do a job,” Jun informed him as he sat down on Sho's bed, dirtying the sheets with his filthy clothes. The other man yielded, holding out his wrist with a quirk to his lips. “The job has obviously gone south thanks to Mr. Ninomiya.”

“And I am sorry about that,” Sho admitted, undoing the cuffs and attaching one of them to his iron bedpost. Unless Matsumoto had wrists like a child or the criminal instincts to undo them, he wasn't going anywhere. He bent down, holding the other cuff open and grabbing hold of Jun's wrist.

“Hands are still soft.”

“What?”

Matsumoto looked away. “Just making an observation.”

Sho felt a buzzing in his ears, trying to ignore the low tone Matsumoto's voice had taken on. As if his words had slipped out before he could control them. Or maybe he was just messing with Sho. Maybe it was all some kind of mind game. The sheriff closed the metal handcuff, releasing Jun's wrist like it was burning hot. Then he stripped the man of his belt and holsters. He stepped back and sat down at his small table, crossing his arms and setting the weapons up on the dresser.

“You wanna tell me why Ninomiya wants you dead?”

Jun stared straight at him again, and it was downright unsettling. He didn't seem the type for a lot of eye contact, but since Doc Ogura's, Jun had been studying him, probably trying to gauge his weaknesses. Figure him out. “He's got every right to want me dead.”

Sho sighed. “You didn't answer my question.”

“Man has a grudge. I wronged him,” Jun explained. “Don't need to say much more than that, do I?”

There had been men with guns in the street, and yet Nino had come flying out of his establishment, shotgun blasting. To say that Jun had wronged Nino seemed like a terrible understatement. Sho hadn't done too much interrogating back in Boston, and the folks out here were even better at keeping things close and keeping their mouths shut. “Wish you would.”

Jun shook his wrist a bit, the cuff jangling with the sound of metal. “How long you gonna keep me like this?”

“As long as I want,” Sho replied. “Don't need to say much more than that.” He cracked his knuckles. “Do I?”

Matsumoto seemed to be holding in a smile. “You sleep in here too, Sheriff? Because I'm not fixing to share quarters with you if I can help it. Unless you have other ideas about interrogating.”

The sheriff could feel the man's eyes searching, probing again. It was like being a coyote's next meal, but before you even saw the coyote. Sho swallowed, feeling a flush rising in his face. Sho got to his feet. He tipped his hat, ignoring Matsumoto's insinuations. The frontier sure changed a man, and Sho realized that he was changing himself. He grabbed one of the dime novels from his dresser and tossed it to him. Grabbing his matchbox, he lit a candle so Jun could see. “You got some leisure time now. Enjoy.”

Now that he was standing and Jun was cuffed and helpless, he felt a bit better. Nobody was getting him in here. He gave Matsumoto one final glare before leaving, closing and locking the door after him. Nino was sitting on the bed inside the cell, fixing to go mad.

“Well, your friend's not much for talking. You planning to play the same game?”

Nino scowled. “My business is my own, and you can keep your silver spoon nose the hell out of it.”

Sho was getting increasingly frustrated. What the hell was he going to tell the territorial government? If he didn't have results, they'd send someone else to keep an eye on him. And that was the last kind of shame he needed. “Your business is my business when you fire a shotgun in the middle of my town, Ninomiya.”

“Ain't your town, Sheriff.” The other man's eyes were different from Matsumoto's. Jun was a tick, burrowing under your skin, finding your blood and sucking the life from you. In Ninomiya's eyes, you were already dead and he was a vulture picking your bones clean. “Ain't never gonna be your town.”

He cracked his knuckles, fingers itching to pull his revolver from his hip holster and fire a warning shot  into his ceiling. If he didn't get out of this building, he'd end up doing so. Night had already fallen outside. It was going to be a long night. He imagined that Doc Ogura was already coordinating with Pastor White about burying the dead, but Sho wouldn't sleep until he got some answers.

Leaving his sheriff's office behind, he went back into the streets. The darkness kept the blood in the streets from standing out, but Sho knew it was still there. There was a candle lit in Aiba's window. He and his deputy had never talked much about Rapid Springs' past, but there was never going to be a better time.

He knocked on Aiba's door, and the blacksmith answered. His face was forlorn, not a look Sho was accustomed to seeing. Aiba's face almost looked wrong this way. “Hey Sheriff.” He held the door. “I knew you'd be coming.”

\-------

A few inches of less-than-solid plywood and a row of iron bars were the only things separating them, and it felt like a shiver down his spine he couldn't get rid of. For a long time after Sakurai's footsteps had faded off beyond the door leading back to the dusty road of town, Nino sat with his hands gripping the mattress of the bed like a lifeline, like the only thing keeping him from going everywhere at once. He could see candlelight flickering under the door to the sheriff's quarters, but he couldn't hear anything.

He sat until he breathing got so ragged it was hitching in his chest, and then he launched himself upwards. He couldn't sit anymore, couldn't keep his limbs still; there wasn't much in the box of a jail cell other than a piss pot and the rotting bed, but the pot was better than nothing.

Nino took two giant steps across the cell and kicked it, sending it flying against the far corner with an angry, reverberating cry.

"Do us all a favor and knock that candle over," he shouted, hands balled into fists at his sides. "The ashes left would be too good a burial for you."

There was no answer, but he wasn't entirely sure he'd been expecting one.

"I promise you," he seethed, glaring down at the light from under the portal. "I promise you on her memory that I will blow your fucking brains out when I get out of here."

Again, only silence, and he railed against the bars, kicking at them with the toe of his boot. It hurt, and the iron was so dinged and rusty that it cut at the flesh of his palms.

"I know you can hear me, you son of a bitch," he yelled, shaking the bars as hard as he could. "You never should have come back here."

Rage bubbled in his throat, like boiling stew over the side of a pan.

"You never shoulda come back cause I should've killed you. I should have blown your head clean off your shoulders when I had the chance."

\--

_“I think that part of the floor is clean,” Ohno said quietly, watching him from the bar._

_Nino kept sweeping anyhow. Concentrating on something nice and mundane kept his stomach from turning over inside of him. Today was the day. The little velvet case in his pocket was going to burn a hole there if he kept thinking about it. “What kind of man would I be, presenting her with a dirty old saloon?”_

_“I still think it's clean enough.”_

_He smiled. “What would you know about impressing a lady anyhow? All you do is fish and bake bread.”_

_Ohno came over and took the broom. “I like fishing.” He moved the broom to the corner. “And I like baking too.”_

_Nino sighed and let his eyes drift around, looking for imperfections. The bar and soon to be inn had been complete for two months, and he wanted everything to be right. This was going to be their home, their business. Together. He fumbled in his pocket, letting his fingers brush against the little case._

_“What time's her coach getting in?”_

_“Oh, you know those things are never on time.” He chuckled. “And she's got a wagon full of her clothes and furniture and all that sorta thing.” In her last letter, she'd insisted she wasn't going to live like some savage in a tent. Nino didn't mind a bit of respectability. Rapid Springs was a town full of men mostly. Families were scarce. They'd do their best to turn that around._

_Ohno clapped his hand on his shoulder. “I still can't believe she's coming all this way and you haven't given her a ring yet.”_

_He pulled the case out, flashing the band at his friend. “She knew what she was getting into with a fellow like me. Besides, all my money went to build this place.” The entire first month's profit from the saloon had gotten the ring from Santa Fe, but it was real silver, much as it had pained him to part with all that hard-earned cash. But there was no one else in the whole world he'd rather spend it on._

_“Well, I can't wait to meet her. It'll be nice to have a pretty woman to look at from time to time.” Ohno headed for the exit. “I'm getting a little sick of your grumpy face.”_

_Nino laughed, throwing a bar towel at the exiting baker, but he was cut short when the sheriff came running in, face red and covered in sweat._

_“Ninomiya, I...”_

_He felt a different sort of nervousness pass over him, like a knife was suddenly at his throat, keeping him from letting out one breath. His grip on the jewelry case tightened._

_“I got some...something terrible's happened...”_

\--

Aiba stepped to one side to let the sheriff in- he'd been expecting him, really, somewhere in his head. Sakurai looked tired. The lines on his face looked like the ones that had striated the old sheriff's brow. They were the kind of lines that never really went away, the kind that stayed with you even when you succumbed to dreams.

"Care for a drink?" Aiba offered, pulling out a bottle of whiskey from one of the hope chest drawers. It'd been awhile since he'd hit the bottle- been awhile since he'd needed to.

"No," Sho said. He didn't sit. "Thank you."

Aiba poured two shot glasses anyway. He knew what the sheriff had come for, and if Sho wouldn't drink it- well, shame to let it go to waste, after all. He licked the droplets that spilled on his thumb and grimaced, replacing the stopper on the bottle again.

"Long day," Aiba said. He glanced over. Sho was still standing, hands on his hips; he looked like he both dreaded and welcomed sitting down.

"Got a feelin' it's gonna get longer," Sho said. He gave Aiba a pointed glance, and the blacksmith rubbed his palms against his apron.

"Just leave it alone," he suggested, knowing full well the sheriff wouldn't heed the advice.

"Can't," Sho answered, curt. "Gotta man in my cell who fired on innocents, and a stranger who won't talk, yet seems to know everybody else in town. Neither of them will give me any answers."

He trailed off, and Aiba didn't offer anything in the silence. When the sheriff finally realized that, he cleared his throat.

"I don't want to pull rank here, deputy," he said, pointedly, and Aiba let his shoulders slump forward a little further. He reached for the first shot of whiskey. It burned, but not as bad as the memories still did- always did. "But I will."

"It's old business," Aiba said, wheezing a bit from the liquor.

"Not today."

He was clearly not going to get out of it- so Aiba reached for the second shot, and gulped that down, too.

\--

"Answer me, else I'll pull out your tongue myself!"

The door did little to actually muffle the sounds, and Jun feverently wished it did more. The cuffs were sharp against his wrists, and a little tight- either the sheriff had misjudged the necessary space, or trusted Jun even less than he'd insinuated. Tugging only made it worse, so Jun just leaned back against the side of the bed.

There was silence, and he thought maybe Ninomiya had given up.

"Her favorite color was blue," came the next bit, softer; softer, but far more dangerous. "She was gonna decorate our room in blue, did you know that? Said it was cleansing, to wake up to, like the sky without clouds."

Jun squeezed his eyes shut. There was no way to block the sound- or the images that rose unbidden to his mind.

"Think I would have liked a blue bedroom," Ninomiya continued. "Think I would have liked being married. Would have been something, wouldn't it?"

A pause, and then an angry thud, like kicks against the offending iron holding him back.

"Huh? Wouldn't it?"

It would have been something. She'd said the same thing, all bright eyes and blonde curls, with dimples on her cheeks when she smiled- laughed the same way, with a little cock to her head. She'd laughed the whole time, til the end, overcome with the giddiness of her arrival; not at the end, though. She hadn't been laughing at the end at all.

Bile rose hot in the back of Jun's throat, and he couldn't swallow it down.

\--

"Why don't you start at the beginning, deputy?"

Sho finally sat, spurs scraping against the wood, and Aiba reached for the bottle again to refill the glasses.

"Don't know the beginning, sheriff," he replied. "Only know the parts that came here."

"And what parts were those?" Sho asked.

Another swig, and the burn was multiplied.

"She was comin' from back East. Comin' by train, and then by coach."

"Who was?" the sheriff asked. His voice had dropped a little bit, bravado tapering off; maybe he was beginning to realize that the situation wasn't as simple as he wished it could be. There were some things that star on his lapel wasn't going to fix, and muddling his hands in them was only going to stir the pot worse in the wrong direction.

"Ninomiya's girl," Aiba said. It was hard to choke out. "Fiance."

Nino had smiled back then, hadn't he? It was hard to remember, but the image was still there, layered beneath the grime and tears and hot sun when they put her in the ground just past the church yard. There was a long silence, and what sounded like a sigh from the other side of the room.

"Think I'll be takin' that drink now," Sho said, finally. Aiba walked it over to him. When the sheriff's fingers closed around the glass, he looked up, eyes hooded. "Aiba?"

"Mm?"

Knuckles whitened. "What exactly happened?"

\--

_Ohno was watching the saloon, for all that Nino had paid attention as he'd bolted for the nearest horse he could find. The sheriff had huffed and puffed after him, getting on his own horse. The man had said nothing as they rode out of town, and Nino knew it was not good. His hands were trembling as he held the reins._

_When he saw the overturned wagon, they were deep in Friendship Pass, high canyon walls on either side. They were only six miles from town. She'd come all this way, and she'd only had six miles to go. He'd barely slowed the horse to a trot when he leapt off, his feet stinging in his shoes from the impact as he ran._

_The deputy, Aiba the blacksmith, had already seen him. “Nino, stop!” The man came hurrying over, throwing his arms around him to try and stop him from moving forward. “You don't need to see, please.” Nino felt like he was in a fog, Aiba's desperately trying to keep him back. The blacksmith had tears in his eyes. “You don't need to see.”_

_His throat was nearly dry, but he shoved Aiba away. “Get the hell off of me!” The deputy stepped back, and Nino continued forward, seeing the tipped wagon. There were dresses strewn every which way, end tables and bed linens, and he finally had to look away when he saw her sewing basket with needles and thread tossed ever so cruelly into the dirt._

_The stagecoach was just beyond, door wrenched open, and he saw blood in the dirt, a trail leading its way, guiding Nino's footsteps like a marker. First, a leather boot with delicate laces. A stocking. And his heart ripped right in half when he went behind the large rock where they'd left her. He didn't scream. He wanted to. Wanted to shout and cry and curse, but she was here, and she'd never much cared for him using dirty language._

_He knelt beside her, seeing the pale skin of her throat ripped apart by some bandit's jagged blade. Her eyes were closed, and Nino could only imagine that Aiba had thought to do so before he'd gotten there. Try as he did to look away, they'd shoved her dress up to her hips. He recognized the brown muslin fabric. He'd sent the money to her, and she'd written to him, saying she'd be wearing it the next time their eyes met. Flesh he'd never seen, uncovered and bloodied, and he knew instantly that those bastards hadn't been satisfied just to kill her._

_His hand shook as he tugged on the muslin and the torn petticoat beneath, pulling the dress back down to give her the dignity she deserved. He tasted salt, and his tears were falling all over, try as he might to fight against it. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he mumbled, reaching for her hand. The little box was still in his pocket, and he pulled it free, opening it._

_He'd gotten the size perfect, and the silver gleamed in the harsh sun as he slipped it onto her finger. “Hope you like it. Took me a whole month of saving, and you know I don't like parting with my money.” He laughed, low in his throat, as he brushed some of her hair from her face. “You're always on me about being thrifty, I'm sorry.”_

_There was a shadow in the dirt beside him, and he could hear audible crying. Aiba was keeping watch. He bent over, and her lips were as soft as the day they'd parted a year earlier with a promise and a shared dream. “Made that soup your mama always did when I came over. It's back at the bar. Enough to feed a whole wagon train, but I don't think it's as good as hers. I'm sorry.”_

_He turned to see Aiba holding a hat Nino didn't recognize. There was a bullet hole shot clean through the brim of it. “Doc Ogura's coming,” Aiba said, his face streaked with tear tracks. “The man who was escorting...well, he crawled all bloody back to town and told me and the sheriff...”_

_Nino's vision nearly went dark. “He's still alive?”_

_Aiba hesitated. “I...I don't know, we left and...”_

_He got to his feet, wrenching the hat from the deputy's hand. “That bastard's still breathing?!”_

_“Don't do nothing rash, Nino. Please. Not now.” Nino wanted to rip the hat in half, but she was still here. She always hated him in a temper. He could still see the ring on her hand, shining. Putting the hat on his own bare head, he crouched down and lifted her. “Hey, the Doc's coming. You don't have to...”_

_“Aiba, clear the way.”_

_He held her, and even now she was light as a feather. In her last letter, she'd complained about losing weight from some nasty flu she'd caught. The deputy moved aside, wiping his eyes with a handkerchief. The hat had another man's sweat on it. He could smell it as he carried her through Friendship Pass, past the overturned wagon and the horse he'd arrived on._

\--

"She wasn't much of a cook, but she was aimin' to get better," Nino said. The rust from the iron had cut the skin 'round his fingernails, and he couldn't quite register the pain. It ran together with all the rest. "Said she'd be the cook at our hotel, and feed all the travelers."

From within the sheriff's quarters there was a soft bang- a heel against the floor. Then again. Matsumoto was trying to drown him out.

"She used to sing while she cleaned," Nino continued, raising the decibel of his voice. "Did she sing while you were traveling? Did she sing as you rode through the desert?"

Someone was laughing, and it took a long moment for him to realize it was coming from between his own mouth. It was hysterical, a giddy release, and his entire body shook with the force of it. His palms trembled against the bars as he pressed against them.

"Did she sing when they came from behind? Did she sing while you let them cut her throat open?"

"Stop it." Finally, a response- a response far too late, far too little.

"Did she sing when they forced themselves on her like she was a common whore?" He was screaming, raging against the bars. "Did she?!"

"Stop it!"

"It should have been you!" Nino yelled. There was a warbling to his tone, and he could taste hot salt on his lips. He hadn't cried for her in a long time- and he'd forgotten how much it hurt, how much the action tore at his chest. "It should have been you they killed, you fucking murderer! Better your blood on their knife than hers!"

The sob choked him, clogging his throat. Unable to dislodge it, he kicked at the bars again.

"It should have been you!"

"And I wish it would have been!" came the response from beyond the door.

\--

_Aiba had followed on his horse, offering every few minutes to help carry his burden, but Nino wouldn't let any other man touch her. Not now. He'd fallen to his knees a few time, in the heat and in his grief, but she wouldn't lay in the dirt again until a minister had blessed the ground. His feet were blistering in his shoes._

_“I can see the steeple of the church right now,” he told her. “You'll like Pastor White. He's already got it reserved for next Saturday morning. I mean, if that day's still good for you. If it's too sudden, we can change the day.”_

_The sun beat down on his back as he stumbled his way to the town entrance, hearing the clopping steps of Aiba's horse a few paces behind. “There's a creek bed just outside of town. Ohno...you'll like him, he's a good man. But anyhow, Mr. Ohno goes fishing there whenever there's water. He doesn't catch nothing, but he just likes to go. His bread's the best. It'll go great with your spare ribs.”_

_Doc Ogura was already driving out his wagon, when he made it to the town entrance. The older man halted his horses, stepping down. “Ninomiya, I'm sorry.”_

_Aiba pulled his horse up along side. “Let's get her to the Doc's place, Nino, okay? Is that okay?”_

_“Huh?”_

_The Doc was already holding his arms out, and Aiba had his hand on his shoulder. “It's okay, Nino, we can help you,” Aiba said._

_“Don't need help,” he replied, continuing his walk, past the doctor's wagon. He couldn't let her go, not yet. She hadn't seen the saloon yet. The hat was still on his head, and he could already feel the shotgun in his hands, couldn't wait to get it out from under the bar. But she was in his arms, and he wouldn't dare let her see him doing something like that._

_The doctor and Aiba followed behind, too close, as others stepped out of their houses and businesses to spy on things they had no right to spy on. “Aiba, the deputy. He's a blacksmith too. I couldn't tell you which job he's better at, to be truthful.” Nino heard sniffling behind him and tried not to join in with the deputy's tears._

_Finally, they made it, and Nino could feel pride swelling in his chest as he carried her to the swinging doors. “I know it took you ages to come, but here it is. Ninomiya's Saloon. I'm sure you can come up with a better name. We've got a room here, and I haven't decorated it too much. You know I don't have an eye for that sort of thing. I made sure they built enough space for your vanity table and your nice mirror. I think you'll like it. And the bar's cherry wood, got a great color to it. I mean, for a bar in a dusty hole like Rapid Springs.”_

_Ohno was there, and he was crying too. Like the whole town already knew. The other man said nothing, just holding the doors open so he could carry her inside. He heard Aiba and Ohno and Ogura talking behind him at the entrance, something about the man getting a shot clean through his shoulder and his hat. Nino kept that in the back of his mind as he held her tight and got her to the room he'd prepared for them, what would have been their marriage bed come Saturday._

_Nino didn't scream until he laid her down in the bed and her blood hit the linen blanket._

\--

The sheriff was silent for a long time, eyes focused somewhere far beyond the walls of the small room Aiba kept at the side of the forge.

"Wasn't his fault," he said, finally. He reached for the whiskey bottle, foregoing the glasses completely. "Bandits are everywhere 'round these parts. It's just- the nature of this place. But it wasn't his fault."

"No," Aiba agreed. "Wasn't."

Sho chewed on his bottom lip, contemplative.

"So that's it?" he asked, finally meeting Aiba's gaze again. "That's the story? He left?"

"No," Aiba said, with a mirthless laugh. "He didn't leave. He got ran outta town at gunpoint."

"And never came back."

"And never came back," Aiba echoed. Another period of quiet, and the sheriff sighed, running a hand wearily through his hair.

"He picked a fine time to come back to Rapid Springs," he mused.

\------

Ninomiya had finally quieted down, screaming himself to sleep. Every second of silence reminded Jun about the cows, about the hands and about Nagase's gleaming Army-issue revolver pointing in his face.

The candle wax had dripped all over Sheriff Sakurai's crooked table, and the cuff on his wrist was chafing him, leaving deep red indentations in his skin. It'd be another day at least before the other kid got back to Nagase, and that was if he hadn't been scared so completely that he'd taken off in the other direction. But it didn't matter. Nagase would find out, and Nagase knew enough people in the territory that he'd be discovered and brought back to the ranch. Would Nagase shoot on site or drag it out? Would he have the jacket on?

Well, that was if Ninomiya didn't kill him first. He couldn't forget the sound of the other man's voice, the cold way he'd reminded Jun of her. Of how pretty and kind and sweet she'd been, and how he'd failed so completely to protect her. It was like all the ways the devil had chosen to invade his dreams brought into reality. Having the words spoken out loud had been like hot lead, like the bullet tearing through his shoulder had felt on that horrible day.

The door to the sheriff's station opened, and Jun stirred, his limbs cracking from having sat in the same position for hours. Nino was silent in the other room. Maybe he'd just given up. He heard the key turn in the lock, and Sho was back, his footsteps dragging. He'd been drinking a bit, and Jun could only figure he'd been talking to Aiba. The sheriff had been brought up to speed – but he'd never have the full story.

“Know why you got that hole in your hat,” the man slurred, removing his star and slapping it down on his dresser, followed thereafter by his holster and weapon. There was no way he could get across the room to it, and he wasn't much in the mood to hold a sheriff at gunpoint when he was already a dead man walking. For as bad as he seemed to be at his job, Sheriff Sakurai wasn't completely inept.

He decided that commenting on what Sho did or did not know wouldn't make a lick of difference. His wrist hurt something terrible though. “Gotta take a piss.”

Sho sighed and nodded. He fumbled at his belt for the handcuff key, and if Jun really wanted to, it wouldn't be hard to get the keys away since the sheriff's reflexes were slowed. There was a bucket in the corner, but Sho took him outside into the cool night air, past Ninomiya's cell where the other man was curled up in a ball, unmoving. Jun felt another stab in his gut, but the need to piss overtook it.

The sheriff walked him around the side of the building. There was an outhouse a ways back, but Sho stopped him at the rear of the sheriff's station. “Here's fine.”

Sakurai just leaned against the building with his eyes closed, exhausted, while Jun relieved himself. He didn't feel like running. Where would he go? “Done.”

“Alright.” Sho got him around the arm again, and Jun could smell the whiskey on him. Maybe sad stories really got to people from back east who thought life out west was something glamorous and exciting. Truth was that the west was a cesspool of filth and vermin who'd sell their family to pan for a little gold and slash another man's throat to avoid the bank taking his land away.

Jun had met a lot of men like Sho who'd come out west thinking of living like one of those dime novel heroes. Thinking they'd bring their civilized ways and do some real reforming. Thinking that by polishing their boots and showing how many words they knew that they'd whip people into line. Sakurai, with his soft, callus-free skin and his amiable eyes, was finally getting a real education. This place was going to kill him, as it had so many Yankee hopefuls before him.

The sheriff shuffled him back into his room, and Jun could see the gleam of the handcuffs again. His wrist was already throbbing in anticipation. Sho looked like he was going to pass out standing up. “I'm not going anywhere, Sheriff.”

Sho shook his head. “I know.” He picked up the cuffs again, putting his hand on Jun's shoulders and pushing down until he was sitting on the floor beside the sheriff's bed. “I know you're not gonna run.”

Jun allowed Sho to cuff him again, this time his hand was out to the side where it was attached to the bed post. He wouldn't be more than a foot away the whole night. He was surprised when the man pulled a blanket off the bed and tossed it on him. He didn't know whether to laugh or say thanks. He said nothing instead.

“I'll need to get you to sign off on some things tomorrow,” Sho said, taking off his vest and shrugging out of his boots. “Folks in Santa Fe will need a full report of what went down. I can send Aiba to your employer, explain what happened. Clear you of wrongdoing.”

He sighed. Nagase wouldn't believe some deputy from a no-name town. Jun looked away while the other man undressed, rustling through drawers. He nearly snorted at the sight of the sheriff, clad in clean cotton pajamas. It seemed that Sheriff Sakurai hadn't fully forgotten his roots yet.

The candle was extinguished, and the bed dipped with the other man's weight. Jun felt the mattress moving behind him as Sho sighed and settled himself under the covers like any other man going to sleep in any other town. It was passing strange indeed. “I'll just have to trust that you won't strangle me with the cuffs or your hands.”

“I'm not fixin' to kill you.”

The silence that followed was awkward. Jun tried to adjust himself a bit, moving the blanket over his lap with his free hand and stretching out his legs and leaning his head back against the mattress. Minutes passed, and the sheriff hadn't fallen asleep yet.

“How was the book?”

“Didn't read it.”

“Mmm.” It was quiet again. The bed creaked as Sho turned over, and Jun felt fingers on his hair which were quickly snatched back. “Sorry.”

He felt Sho move away. The mattress springs were noisy as he probably flattened himself against the opposite wall away from where Jun was resting his head. He tried to ignore the sensations prickling in his scalp from the contact, the tingling in his wrist. People rarely got close enough to touch him. Jun didn't allow that.

“You walked six miles with a bullet through your shoulder.”

Jun closed his eyes, body aching from the unforgiving floor. Aiba hadn't left any details out, had he? “Didn't walk.”

“Huh?”

“Said I didn't walk.” He remembered the dirt caked over the blood on his hands, the pathetic spattered trail he left on the way back from Friendship Pass. His shoulder itched, the scar on the front and the larger exit wound scar on his back reminding him of being on Doc Ogura's table and getting run out of town before he'd even had a chance to heal.

“I'm sorry.” Sho's voice was lower, quieter, and it sent a shiver down Jun's spine. “Just cooperate with me, and we'll get your situation straightened out.”

He shook his head, for all that Sho could see in the dark. No amount of explaining could get him out of this. Nagase had put all his faith in Jun, and there was no place for mistakes. He licked his lips, thirsty for water, and it would be a long night. Sho's breathing evened out, and Jun listened to the other man for a long while before sleep came to claim him too.


	4. Chapter 4

"Are they still burying the dead?" Nino asked, far too non-chalantly for Jun's liking. He kept quiet, though, because he wasn't stupid- just because the sheriff had left the door open didn't mean it was an invitation to continue talking to the prisoner. At least Ninomiya had stopped screaming at him, but Jun had a feeling it was only due to Ohno's presence outside the bars.

The shop owner was munching on some bread, seated on a stool with one leg significantly shorter than the others. It rocked back and forth each time he shifted his weight.

"Mm," he said, in agreement. "Think the sheriff should be back soon."

Jun wanted to yell that if Ninomiya hadn't lost his head with his shotgun, there wouldn't be any dead- but it just reminded him that Nagase's ranch hand had gotten the bad end of the shot, and the bounty on his head had no doubt been advertised already. Maybe he'd get a wanted poster out of it, if his luck was particularly bad.

"Sheriff should know better than to leave trash lying around his room," Nino said, and Jun swallowed back ire. In truth, Sho had been in a rush to leave for the funeral, to confer with Pastor White, and he'd left the key on the chest across the room. Jun had been eyeing it for the better part of the afternoon, until Ohno had come in with rations.

"You're mean when you got bars to keep you from gettin' beat," Ohno mused.

Nino made a shrill noise with his teeth. "The bars have nothing to do with it."

Jun rattled the handcuffs against the bed post a bit, just to remind them that the door was open and he could hear them. Neither seemed to take make much of it. There were footsteps heavy against the stoop out front, and the door opened with a creak.

"Evening, Mr. Ohno," the sheriff said. He sounded tired.

"Evening, sheriff."

The footsteps grew louder, until Jun could see Sho standing outside the jail bars, hands on his hips. His trousers were laden with dust from the cemetary, caked with mud around the soles.

"Came to bring in Ninomiya baked goods, then?"

Ohno shrugged, still chewing on the bread loaf in his hands. "Gotta eat, same as us."

Sho glanced through the open door, to Jun still leaning against the bed. Jun wondered if the man was ever going to let him out- his wrists were starting to get raw, and listening to Nino and Ohno yammer on for an hour had succeeded in giving him a headache. The sheriff didn't look inclined to enter yet, though, and Jun wasn't sure he wanted to press his luck. They'd come to a tenuous understanding, and ruining it wouldn't help anything.

"Maybe I should garnish some profit from the saloon to pay Pastor White for the ranch hand's funeral," he said, still looking in at Jun with an unreadable expression. "Since you were the one responsible."

"Maybe we should just shoot Matsumoto and collect on the reward," Nino spat.

"You wanted for anything?" Ohno called, leaning around Sho to look in the bedroom. Jun sighed, feeling like a painted horse in a corral.

"Probably am now," he replied.

Sho frowned, like he'd just been reminded of the predicament Jun had explained himself to be in. Jun didn't much fancy waiting around to see how high Nagase put the gold worth on him to be; if he got free, he could be halfway to California within a week, and out of the ex-Confederate's jurisdiction.

There was a pause, and then a shout from outside- Spanish.

The sheriff whirled, hands going to his holsters immediately before he turned again on his heel to grab for his shotgun instead.

"Shit," he hissed through clenched teeth, cocking the weapon and checking the rounds. "Got here faster than I thought they would."

"Hey," Jun called, but Sho was already out the door, leaving dust in his wake.

\--

There were three of them, and none of them the ones he'd shot at the day prior. Sho didn't even bother to pretend the shotgun in his hands was just for show; there was only one reason for them to show back up, and he wasn't stupid enough to think it otherwise.

"Evening, boys," he said, hoping his tone sounded dangerous enough.

"Cock-sucker," one cursed, spitting on the dirt.

"Save it," another said. Hands closed around holsters, and the one on the far right cocked his own shotgun held between mud-caked fingers. "He ain't the one we after this time."

Sho didn't miss the emphasis on 'this time'- but he also didn't miss the part before. The Sandburg Boys were headed like marshals on a mission towards his station, directly at him, and he had a feeling he knew exactly what they were looking for inside.

"My jurisdiction," he said, and the wound on his arm flared up something awful, as in warning. "You boys get on outta here. I don't want this to go sour again."

"We ain't here for you, sheriff," the one with the shotgun warned. "Count your blessin's that Mendoza wants the one who fired first on his noose before you."

"Back off," Sho said, raising his gun. He didn't want to shoot again- memories of the boy and the saw and the hazy, pain-lidden screams in Spanish hadn't left his mind yet- but he wouldn't hesitate. Not this time. His finger arched around the trigger, and then there was a flash of movement behind him; he hadn't noticed a fourth figure lingering in the late day shadows of the buildings, not until the arm had come down and all he could feel was the splitting pain as the barrel of the rifle hit him square in the head.

\--

He heard Sho fall with a muffled groan before he heard Nino's hiss of a warning and Ohno's stool scraping across the wood. There was already blood hanging around his neck, settling on his shoulders; he'd tasted the copper of regret for the last four years, and he didn't want more of it. Ninomiya was behind bars and unarmed, and it wouldn't even be a fight. It would be an easy massacre, and they'd probably take Ohno down with them.

Jun was digging his heels into the wood boards before he registered his own movement. The bed was heavy and squealed something awful, but it wasn't the worse thing he'd dragged along behind him. The handcuffs were cutting into his wrists with the exertion of moving everything, but there was fire screaming in his veins to keep him going. He only had to get across the room to the key.

Close enough, and he kicked at the chest- the candle fell with a smack, and then the key with a ping. Ohno was shouting, and it sounded like he was trying to slam the door before the boys got there. Jun reached for the key, fumbling it between his fingers enough to open the lock. He'd gotten out of worse scrapes before- but the pressure didn't help.

More shouting, and a shot was fired. From the splintering wood that followed, Jun guessed it was at the ceiling.

The restraints clicked open, and Jun was moving towards the dresser holding his belt as soon as the iron slipped away.

He stumbled out the door with both revolvers palmed. One of the boys was coming through the doorway and a quick shot to the forehead put him down, between the eyes. The next barreled through after and Jun caught him in the chest. It was easier standing on the other side of the portal, gave him cover and something to shoot at. Nino was hollering up a storm within the bars, and Jun tried to ignore it.

A bullet flew past his shoulder, ricocheting off the bars. Nino dove behind the bed and Ohno surged into Sho's bedroom. Jun had himself behind the corner, firing across his chest without looking twice, in quick succession. He didn't seem to hit much, but at least the shots slowed them down- or warned them to be more careful, either or.

Another shot hit the corner too near his position, and he cursed.

"Wait," Nino called suddenly, in the cell- he was focused on the doorway, with one finger in the air. "Wait- go!"

Jun didn't stop to think the man could be doing little more than to set him up. He just threw himself around the corner and emptied as many rounds from both weapons as he could, one after another. He caught one in the arm, and then in the leg, and the last in the stomach, sending him to the ground with anguished wheezes.

The smoke lingered in the air as Jun slowly climbed to his feet, re-holstering the revolvers. From the silence beyond the stoop, he gathered there had only been four.

"Ohno?" he called, over his shoulder.

"Alive," came the answer. It was all Jun needed to hear. He stepped over one of the bodies, heel managing to land square in the growing pool of blood near the door, and went out into the sun. The sheriff was lying on his back in the dirt, stirring slightly. Jun knelt, giving him a quick once over for injuries.

"Sheriff?" he asked. There didn't seem to be any blood- they'd just hit him, then, to knock him out. His head would hurt something terrible, but it was better than patching back up a bullet wound. He got a groan as a response, and reached to skim his fingers across the man's forehead. "Sheriff?"

Sho's eyes opened into slits, and he squinted up at Jun.

"Y- 'posed to be handcuffed to my bed," he mumbled.

"Got out," Jun stated the obvious. He stood, and held out a hand to help Sho to his feet. The sheriff was unsteady, but kept his own, raising a hand to his head as if woozy.

"Speaking of getting out," came the shout from inside the structure, "fancyin' on letting me out any time soon?"

Ohno poked his head out of the station, calmly surveying the bodies littering the doorway.

"Think you've got trouble, now," he said.

"Had trouble 'fore them," Sho mumbled, but Ohno was right; four dead from Mendoza's gang, and Jun's guns still smoking. The sheriff had a heap on his hands if he didn't play his cards right. And from the look of the planned ambush, he was already targeted for the noose.

"Go see the doc," Jun told Sho, with a hand on his arm to help point him in the right direction. "Once your head is back on straight, you can plan your next move."

\------

Late, late, late, Aiba berated himself. Always late. He’d been hammering in his shop, and that was good and loud enough to keep him from hearing the gunshots down the way. Some deputy he was. As he hurried over, ears still ringing from his work, he found Matsumoto outside, holding onto the sheriff. Had Matsumoto escaped and done something to him?

His fears were unfounded as he saw the bodies of four men, more of the Sandburg gang from the look of them. Ohno was standing in the doorway of the sheriff station, his usual expression on his face. What the hell had happened?

“Sheriff, you alright?”

Sho looked up, and Aiba watched him move a hand to his head. “Got knocked around a bit,” the sheriff told him. “We got trouble coming.”

“You need to go get your head looked at,” Matsumoto was saying, patting Sho on the shoulder like they were old buddies now. Aiba was pleased to see some people in this town getting along.

Four corpses meant four more graves, and Aiba didn’t much like that. If Mendoza kept losing men, he’d send more and more, and they wouldn’t be able to protect the town at that rate. Sho pointed at Aiba, hand wobbling as he started stumbling off to Doc Ogura’s. “I’ll let the doctor know about his newest burials. You…you lock him up.”

Jun looked annoyed. Maybe he’d overestimated the level of affection between sheriff and gunman, Aiba realized. “You can’t be serious,” Jun said. “I just saved your hide.”

“You broke out of custody. Aiba, would you ignore his yammering and handcuff him?”

Aiba was torn. It was clear that Matsumoto had left the Sheriff’s custody, but in doing so, he’d fended off the attackers. Ohno stepped down from the porch. “Matsumoto here saved my life.” The baker looked back, raising his voice slightly. “And he saved Ninomiya’s too.”

Sho snorted and kept shuffling off until he disappeared ‘round back of the Doc’s place. Well, it had been a while since Aiba had had to make any sort of tough decisions. If Matsumoto had broken out and protected the sheriff and the other men, then the town owed him a great deal of thanks. But he’d taken advantage of the situation to break out of custody.

Jun was eyeing him, and Aiba knew he’d have to make a decision sooner or later. But if he let Jun go free, what would happen with Nino? First things first, he had to deal with the bodies. Townsfolk didn’t need to have corpses in their main thoroughfare two days in a row.

He clapped Ohno on the shoulder. “We need to get these men in the ground. Can you get Pastor White?” The baker nodded, always knowing which way the wind was blowing. He headed off towards the pastor’s house, and Jun was still standing there. He hadn’t taken advantage of Sho when he was knocked back, and he hadn’t made a move on Ninomiya. Maybe the man could be trusted, if only a little bit. He’d let Sho yell at him later.

“Matsumoto, you’re gonna help with the burials or I’ll put you back in the shackles. What do you say?”

Jun holstered his weapons and crossed his arms. “Find me a shovel.”

-

He watched Jun and Aiba lifting bodies together, getting them onto a cart Ohno had wheeled over. They kicked up dirt as they headed out of Nino’s range of vision, off to the town graveyard just beyond the church. He was still fuming, still raging. Didn’t matter how many men Jun Matsumoto fought off, did it? He’d always be the man who let her die. Let some bandits steal her innocence and slice open her throat.

But the urge to throttle the other man, to feel Jun’s life between his fingers as he snuffed it out was lessening. There were far worse things on his plate than dealing with revenge, much as it pained him to admit it. Mendoza had sent those men not to antagonize Sakurai this time. Nope, Mendoza wanted him dead. And Nino didn’t much like the thought of his head being the target of any of the Sandburgs’ trigger happy fingers.

The sky darkened as they carted away the last of Mendoza’s men, and Jun did everything but look in his direction whenever he passed by. There’d be no forgiveness, Nino was sure of that much. But he’d have to save his ire for another day. It was another hour or so before Sho came in, still walking a bit slow, but the doc hadn’t bandaged him up.

“Bet you gotta nice bump on the back of your head,” he said with a laugh as the other man closed the door and went back to the pile of papers on his desk.

Reporting back like a good little soldier. When was Sheriff Sakurai going to get it through his thick skull that there was no such thing as an account of events out here? Every man took a side, and none of those sides might be in the right. There was no way to tell the fat, rich good for nothings in Santa Fe what really happened. And they sure as hell didn’t care, so long as there weren’t any Indian attacks.

Sho said nothing as he lit the oil lamp on the wall, arranging the papers with a heavy sigh. Nino was bored, quite frankly. “Where’s Matsumoto? Shouldn’t you be getting cozy again soon?”

The sheriff’s face twisted into annoyance, and Nino knew he’d found a good place to dig on in. “Both were awful quiet last night,” he continued, laying back on the mattress and staring up at the leaky ceiling. He’d been sleeping, had slept through it all, but it would be out of character for him not to rile the sheriff up with insinuations and implications. Hadn’t Sho done the same to him the day before? “You let him share your bed, handcuffs and all?”

“He’s enjoying Aiba’s hospitality tonight,” Sho replied, teeth clenched in irritation.

Nino chuckled. “You gonna miss him?”

He heard the sheriff’s chair scrape back against the floor, and soon enough the man was standing at the bars. “You got a mouth on you, Ninomiya, and sometimes I wanna smack it closed.”

“Why don’t you open up this cell and go for it?”

Sho sighed, and Nino imagined his head wasn’t feeling so great. “I’m letting you loose tomorrow. You try to mess with Matsumoto…you get within ten feet and you’ll be rotting in here until you’re begging on your hands and knees to get out.”

The thought of freedom, getting back to his saloon and away from the iron bars was a fine thought indeed. But there was no way to run a business with the storm clouds looming over the town now. “What you planning to do about Mendoza’s boys?” This was a topic of definite concern, seeing as how they wanted him dead.

“It’s pretty obvious that word’s gonna get back that we’ve now killed five of the Sandburgs. They’ll send a whole big crew in a few days, I can almost promise you that.” Sho looked exhausted. Maybe he really hadn’t given a whole lot of thought to what a sheriff really had to deal with. It wasn’t all smiles and taking care of the drunk and disorderly.

“And?”

Sho gave him a dirty look. “And we’re having a town meeting tomorrow about the best way to defend Rapid Springs. Aiba’s gonna coordinate getting the women and children out of town, maybe over to Broken Trail for a while until the dust settles.”

Nino raised an eyebrow at this. He wondered if Sho would be kind enough to ensure the safety of Scarlet, May and the other girls. Or did Sheriff Sakurai’s definition of women differ from his? “I suppose that’s why I’m getting sprung.”

It pained Sho to say his next words, and that gave Nino a slice of happiness. “As someone who’s lived here for so long, you are definitely an asset in planning any sort of defense.”

He considered this. It would be hard to not accidentally shoot Jun in the back during a firefight, trying to convince Sho it had been a misfire. Nino kept those thoughts to himself. “And what about your gunslinger? Your savior, as it were?” He stifled the knowledge that Jun had been as much Sho’s savior as his own that day.

“What about him?”

“He crawling back to his boss? You letting him leave?”

Sho looked angry again, stepping away from the bars and off to his room. “He’s offered his services. Claims we're screwed without him.”

With that, Sho slammed his door, leaving Nino alone in the candlelit room. This sure was a development. It was clear the sheriff resented Jun’s presence. He obviously didn’t like anyone else trying to play enforcer around these parts. Nino tucked that little bit of info away, turning over on the mattress. Sure would be a town meeting to remember.

\------

It felt wrong to be discussing a firefight in the church, but it was the only place they had for a town meeting hall, and the conversation had to be addressed. At the very least Sho knew the citizens were serious about the threat, since they amassed within a half an hour of Aiba spreading the news of the meeting 'round town. Two days of gunfire in a row, and the blood of Rapid Springs was rapidly running cold with dread; he wouldn't have to do much to inspire some action out of the folks gathered in the rickety pews, that much was certain.

Aiba was waving people further inside the building, near the doors.

"What's your plan?" came the answer from behind him, near the shadows of the dais.

"Get the women and children out," Sho replied without turning. He was already sick of seeing the self-satisfied smirk on Matsumoto's mouth; the man didn't have to offer his aid, but Sho wasn't required to accept, either, and he didn't wish to feel anymore like Jun was doing him a huge favor by sticking around. "Stand our ground."

"How you gonna do that?" Jun asked.

"With guns," Sho snapped, "and maybe a few bullets."

There was a snort from Ninomiya, who was leaning against the wall beams with his arms crossed over his chest.

"I was actually thinking of using the frills in the saloon cabinets," he quipped. "Think Matsumoto will look fine in a dress, don't you? I'm envisioning lace, maybe a nice brooch."

"If you aren't going to offer anything helpful, keep quiet," Sho warned, itching to throw the man back in the damn jail cell. He might have to deal with him at night, but at least it would silence him during the strategic meeting.

"Was helpful," Nino said. "Jun can distract them with his legs while we shoot."

"Not making enough with your whores?" Matsumoto asked. His voice was dangerously low. "Maybe if the service in that shit-hole improved you'd see a rise in your sales. Can't be the pitch, that's for sure."

Nino's face contorted into an angry scowl, and Sho just held a hand up- within days he'd be seeing a host of Mendoza's lackies on the streets, and he had to deal with quibbling from behind the scenes, as well? His temples ached something fierce already.

"I'll throw you both in that cell, mark my words," the sheriff warned. "So shut it and keep your mouths closed for five minutes while I sort things out."

From the doorway of the church, Aiba flashed him an okay sign- that was the majority of the town, then, or at least the able-bodied half. Ohno was near the far corner, scanning the pews in case something went south, and Pastor White was next to him, holding a bible like a lifeline. Sho stepped up to the pulpit, feeling a bit humbled to be behind it; usually he was watching the sermon delivered from the point, and he was certainly no clergy-man.

"I'm sure you're all aware of the pressure we're under now," he started, "and I know ya'll are waiting for something to be done about it. First thing tomorrow morning, Pastor White is taking the women and children up north to Clearwater."

There was a ripple through the crowd, murmurs growing.

"The rest of you are to stay here. We need every gun we can get." Sho resisted glancing back at the two standing behind him, almost regretting his own words.

"And what then?" called a man from the pews.

"You just focus on getting your innocents out of here," Sho told him, "and let me do the rest."

There was a tap on his shoulder as the crowd began to talk amongst themselves, and Pastor White, who stepped forward, and Sho turned. Jun was standing behind him with a frown on his features.

"We should divide the men into two groups," he said. "Keep some on both sides- gives us a wider range to shoot from."

"And more possibilities to hit each other," Nino pointed out. "You figurin' every man in this place knows his way around with shotgun barrels?"

"Well, it's better than laying low and waiting for them to ambush us," Jun said. He ground his teeth, jaw clenched.

"Can't be an ambush if we know it's coming," Nino replied.

"Can be if we ain't prepared. And we need to settle along both sides of the main stretch to give us the most advantage."

Ninomiya chuckled. "So what? You in charge then?"

"No, he isn't," Sho butt in, giving Jun a warning glance. The other man was grievously overstepping his bounds; it was still Sho's town, Sho's rules, and if Matsumoto wasn't going to play by them, he'd throw him out. He didn't need the guns that bad- or so he told himself as the ire swept through his form, clenching his muscles.

Jun bristled visibly.

"Look, sheriff, you should take my advice," he said. "I've done this before, and you haven't."

"Just because I've never done this doesn't mean I'm inept," Sho fired back.

"That's usually what the term implies," Nino added dryly. The crowd was still mobilizing among themselves- Pastor White was taking a head count of all the women and children who would be accompanying him, jotting notes down on the paper in his hands. Ohno appeared to be helping count as well, though by the frustrated look on his face, he kept having to start his numbering over again as bodies kept shifting and moving around them.

"You accepted my help-" Jun started.

"Doesn't mean I acquiesced my badge," Sho interrupted, ears ringing. "You're here to help, not to lead."

"This really isn't the time to get caught up on semantics," Jun said.

Another chuckle from Ninomiya's position, and Sho was beginning to get very sick of the derisive sound.

"Good luck un-knotting his trousers," the saloon owner said. "Might as well just flick that star right on over to your jacket, Matsumoto, for all the good it's going to do."

He was moving before he really thought about it. Maybe it was the stress, maybe it was the impending shots he'd be firing, or maybe it was just a culmination of the arguing around him. Didn't really matter, cause Sho had Nino against the wall in the blink of an eye, one arm pressed tight against the man's throat to pin him in place.

"I said I needed your gun," he hissed, inches from Ninomiya's face, "not your mouth. Now keep it fucking closed or I'll do it for you. Doc's got stitches that would work just fine for that."

There was murder roiling furiously in Nino's eyes, but with Sho's forearm smashing his windpipe, he at least had the good sense to keep quiet.

"Now either you follow my lead, or you make with the pastor to Clearwater," Sho continued, keeping his wrist where it was and glancing over at Jun. The gunslinger's face was dark, but he made no move to shift to Ohno's position near the doorway. "What's it gonna be?"

"You're a right bastard," Nino choked out.

"Well at least we have that established," Sho told him. The anger was pounding in his ears, but the ringing had stopped; his blood was singing with fire. He stepped back, letting Ninomiya half-tumble to the ground, rubbing his throat and glaring like it could kill. He ignored it, and glanced at Matsumoto again.

"Feel like pushin' your luck here?" he asked.

"Ain't pushing anything," Jun snapped, "least of all luck. We don't have any."

Sho wiped his hands on his trousers, palms oddly sweaty.

"Then we make what we can."

Nino stood again, glowering. His throat was red from the pressure, but it didn't look like it would purple by morning- he'd make a bigger show of it, alright, Sho had no doubt about that. It was worth it to get the man to shut his trap and let Sho think straight for a minute.

He bit his bottom lip, staring at the toes of his boots.

"Maybe we can use this," Jun suggested, finger pointing upwards towards the ceiling.

"The church?" Sho asked. It sounded like a suggestion rather than a demand, so he took it.

"Steeple," the other man clarified. "Best vantage point in town. I could go up-"

"No," Sho said, shaking his head. Jun trailed off, looking dark but thankfully silent. "You're quick with the draw, and I need you on the street. Aim's better than most of the folks 'round here, and I'm not gonna waste it."

He leveled him with a hard look.

"If you're still offerin'."

An almost imperceptible nod was the answer. There was an uncoiling in Sho's chest in relief. He looked back to Nino. From the hard set of the saloon owner's jaw, he knew he'd probably pushed him too far, but he didn't rightly care. He just needed his help, one way or the other- friendship wasn't something he was aiming for in light of the situation.

"What about you?" he asked, finally.

"What about me?" Nino shot back, obviously no longer in a remotely giving mood.

"You gonna help, or leave with the rest?" It was bad form to needle at Nino's courage, but at least Sho knew that poking at the coals would keep the fire alive. It had come to blows below the belt, and he was too tired to be ashamed of his aim.

"I ain't doing it for you," Nino ground out.

"Didn't say I wanted you to," Sho replied. Nino glanced over to Ohno and Pastor White, trying to calm the growing commotion in the crowd, and to Aiba standing near the door with his back against the wood, near the narthex of the building. Sho could almost see the cogs in the man's head spinning; he didn't think himself half qualified to know what was going on up there, other than he was hoping Nino hated him enough to be driven to prove his worth.

"I'll take the steeple," he said, in a way that left no room for argument. One thing about Ninomiya- even backed into a corner he commanded some loft in the discussion.

"Fine," Sho agreed. It was- he'd rather be on the ground, where his shotgun had more force behind it. "We got a day, maybe two- Mendoza won't give us much time. He knows we'll be mobilizing."

"Make sure all the guns have ammo," Jun said. "Give the men a few packs extra, and tell them to keep armed at all times."

It still irked him, but at least his rage had largely passed- Matsumoto was at least attempting to pretend like his comments were suggestions rather than demands.

"I'll put Ohno in charge of it," Sho said.

Across the nave, Aiba was waving at him, gesturing largely- Pastor White appeared to be done, it seemed, with aggregating the women and children into the traveling group.

"Stay alert," Sho warned the two near him, returning the motion with his left hand so the deputy knew he'd seen it. "Don't know when they'll hit."

"Never do," Jun mused.

Ninomiya glared darkly at Sho, pushing himself away from the wall with both hands. "No," he disagreed. "Sometimes you do."

Sho let him leave, because he was reasonably certain the man hadn't been talking about Mendoza, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to dive into the implications just yet. He had too much else on his plate already.

\-------

“And I swear to Jesus, Mary and Joseph that he got his foot caught in the stirrup and tripped!” Aiba was telling him in between bits of laughter, and Jun could barely keep from chuckling himself. It had been a long time since he’d really laughed, the carefree laughter of a man like Aiba.

“This was his first time?”

“Well,” Aiba said, pouring and filling his glass with brandy again. They’d both had enough, but there’d been a scout down past the creek earlier that evening. Mendoza’s crew would be there before high noon, Jun knew it. If he was going down shooting, then tomorrow would probably be that day. Didn’t hurt to get some good liquor in his belly beforehand.

“Well, it wasn’t his first time on a horse. I mean, it was his first time riding into town. Whole place was waiting for him, and he comes in. And you know the Sheriff, he was smilin’ like a sunbeam with those pretty Yankee teeth, and he halts the horse. So he’s getting down, ready to walk up and start shaking hands with the townsfolk and what do you know, the guy gets his boot stuck on the stirrup! And bam!”

“Bam?” Jun repeated, downing the brandy with a hearty snort.

“Bam! Right on his ass!” Aiba doubled over in his chair, smacking the faded upholstery with his free hand. “Not a good first impression, mind. Not a good one at all.”

Jun finished the glass and coughed, unable to control himself. “That’s shameful, is what that is, Mr. Aiba. Damn shameful.”

Aiba waggled his finger drunkenly. “Now don’t you repeat a word of that to the Sheriff. He was embarrassed enough.”

He made an x in the middle of his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

The deputy fumbled with the cap for the brandy bottle and got to his feet. “I’m turning in. If we’re shooting holes in people tomorrow, I need my beauty sleep.”

“Good night.” Aiba headed off, leaving Jun alone in his humble living room. Sharing quarters with the blacksmith was a hell of a lot less complicated and strange than being cuffed to the sheriff’s bed. Aiba was simple-minded but not dumb. He didn’t pry and he didn’t nag, and in another life, Jun might have been happy to have been the man’s friend. But he was dealt the hand he’d been given, and Rapid Springs wasn’t his home.

He set down his glass and headed out onto Aiba’s porch, leaning against the post and surveying the town. Tomorrow, Mendoza’s boys would be there. If they were smart, they were already camped out close, maybe Friendship Pass. There’d be a good thirty or forty gunmen, if Mendoza wasn’t as dumb as his reputation implied. Jun held out his hand, extending his index finger like a gun barrel.

“Bam!” he muttered to himself, targeting a few barrels visible in the distance. “Bam!” This time, from behind the church. Would they approach from the north entrance by the sheriff’s place or from the south, by the church graveyard? Or would they sneak amongst the houses and cut the town down the middle.

Most of Sakurai’s plan trusted Mendoza’s boys to play it safe and split up, half coming from the north and the other half from the south. Jun wanted men in the houses, aiming from windows behind curtains. Ninomiya had declared his place off limits for such plans, the bastard, even though his saloon was centrally located and ideal as one of the only buildings in town with a second story vantage point. The man himself would be hiding out in the church steeple with a rifle – if Nino wanted him dead, tomorrow would be the time.

He’d spent the better part of yesterday and today training the townsfolk how to properly fire shotguns. For a podunk little hamlet at the edge of nowhere, there were surprisingly few men who could hit the broadside of a barn. They were more concerned with their businesses or their animals than with their protection. He surveyed the town from Aiba’s porch one last time, hopping down the stairs with a bounce to his step from the deputy’s fine stores of brandy.

There was a nice breeze. Not enough to kick up the dirt, but enough to ruffle Jun’s hair and cool the back of his neck. There was a light on at Ninomiya’s, but Jun didn’t need to press his luck. Nino might have been a terrible shot, but his saloon was sacred ground. Home territory. If Jun set one foot inside, he’d technically be trespassing. Or Nino would spin the tale that way. No, he’d keep going.

Sheriff’s light was out. He was probably in his ritzy pajamas, talking in his sleep about his mama like he had the night Jun had been cuffed to his bed. Jun kept walking, past the wooden posts designating the beginning of the town proper. There was a creek bed up this way, probably dried out. An old gnarled tree, roots poking up out of the ground, was one of the only patches of shade between the town buildings and Friendship Pass.

Jun remembered the unforgiving openness of the land here. He’d never forget it, crawling on his belly like a snake to tell the old sheriff how they’d been attacked. How he’d been shot and left for dead, but he’d fallen under some of her clothes and been forgotten. Nobody’d remembered to slash his throat and listen to his blood gurgle.

He sat heavily in between a couple roots, staring at the dry creek bed, smooth stones lining the bottom. What was Nagase waiting for? It’d been days now, and that boy should have gotten back to the man’s ranch by now. Had Nagase caught wind of Rapid Springs’ troubles, figuring that Mendoza would take care of his problem? It would leave Nagase above suspicion if Jun took a bullet in the brain the following morning.

There were steps behind him. Not the shifty, uneven steps of Ninomiya or the confident, carefree strides of the deputy. “Planning to bolt?” Sho asked him, one boot perched on the root by Jun’s elbow.

“You need me.”

The boot scraped back and forth over the root. Nervous tension. “You know we don’t have the money to pay you.”

“Don’t want your money.”

Sho laughed. “You get a personality transplant when I wasn’t looking?”

Jun shrugged. “I done Rapid Springs a disservice. Just repaying her.”

The sheriff shifted, leaning his back against the tree, standing just next to him now. “You atoning? I talked to Aiba. There was nothing you could have…”

He looked up, anger building in his gut at Sho’s presumption. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what I coulda done. You have no idea.”

Sho hummed a bit, a tune Jun didn’t recognize. Probably some fancy thing he’d heard at a recital or orchestra or other time-wasting activity people back east liked to do. It mingled with the crickets, and a coyote long in the distance howling for its pack. He kept staring. The night sky was open, full of stars and a crescent moon. Peaceful almost, given the coming day. The calm before the storm, as it were.

“You in the choir, Sheriff?”

The other stopped humming. “Me? No, no way. Not since I was a little boy at Sunday school.”

Jun closed his eyes, knowing the sheriff wasn’t going to try anything funny. He wasn’t Ninomiya, for one thing. “What kinda stuff they teach in Sunday school in Boston?”

“Hmm?” Sho crouched down, his knee brushing briefly against the sleeve of Jun’s shirt. “Probably the same stuff out here. Jesus and the disciples, David and Goliath, Cain and Abel.”

He nodded. “Oh yeah. We got Cain and Abel out here too.”

“Man slaying his brother cause God loved him more. Loved the shepherd who cared for his flock more than the man who tended his fields with an equal love.” The sheriff sighed as his knees cracked a bit, and he readjusted, sitting with his back to the tree at Jun’s side. “Guess I came out here thinking I’d be Abel.”

The alcohol was still playing tricks on his brain, making him warm despite the chilly night air, and he moved a little closer so he could hear Sho plainly. “What do you mean, Abel?”

Sho shook his head. “I don’t know I…I guess I thought I’d be shepherding these folks in a way, pleasing everyone by caring and loving and protecting them.” He laughed quietly. “Feel more like Cain every day. Workin’ my ass off and it doesn’t even matter.”

Jun sighed. “You comin’ to me for advice, Sheriff? Because I thought you hated the sight of me.”

“Not here for advice.”

“Then why are you here?”

The other man was quiet for a few moments, and Jun watched the moon, wondering if he’d get to see it again the following night. “I’m just tired. Tired of people like Ninomiya.”

“Tired of people like me?” he interjected, and the other man actually cracked a smile.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m definitely tired of people like you.” Sho inclined his leg, resting an elbow on his knee. “I just want them to see me and know I’m not here for myself. I’m here to help them. Here to make this place safe.”

The other man’s body heat inches away was messing with his already muddled mind, blurring his thoughts. He was still pretty and new with his pajamas and his books and his smile. He just didn’t fit out here. Jun gave the Sheriff a playful punch in the arm, letting his hand rest on the man’s shoulder. “You Yankees. Always so regretful and wanting the whole world to know you’re suffering. Wearing your hearts on your sleeves.”

“Should I bottle everything like you?” Sho asked him, the whites of his eyes bright underneath the stars. “Not like I go telling everyone around here what’s eating me, but you just have it all packed in, all internal. You’re a tough nut to crack.”

“Ain’t I a piece of work?” Jun said with a chuckle, letting his hand drift down lazily from the other man’s shoulder, landing on his thigh.

Sho was so caught up in his own misery that he didn’t seem to notice. “Maybe I should just go back east. Just go back and tell my father he was right.”

“Maybe you should.”

The sheriff sighed. “Thanks. You’re real encouraging.”

The man’s leg was warm, almost hot under Jun’s fingers. He smelled like rolled tobacco and gun oil, and the hint of some clean Yankee soap. It had been so long, just so damn long since he’d been close to another person he didn’t have to toss bills at first. Sho was arrogant and self-righteous, but at the same time he was a kind soul and doubted himself far more than anyone in the town possibly could. He was out of place, and Jun was always like that, too, in his own fucked up way.

The brandy gave him courage and his desperation and loneliness didn’t hurt either as he grabbed the Sheriff on impulse, eager to see if the man’s lips were as soft as his hands. But his mouth only got the side of the man’s cheek as he turned away.

“You’re drunk,” Sho said, pulling away.

It wasn’t a no. But it sure as hell wasn’t a yes. “Yeah,” he drawled. “Yeah, I am.” He felt his stomach knot as Sho’s body heat disappeared, and he got to his feet.

“You oughta get some sleep if you’re gonna be running the show tomorrow.”

“What?”

“I’m trusting you, Matsumoto. Don’t make me look like a fool.”

The sheriff walked away, his steps quicker than usual. Jun had really spooked him. He wanted to kick himself. Maybe Sho wasn’t as lonely as Jun had wagered. He bumped his head back against the tree trunk a few times, trying to clear Aiba’s wonderful brandy from his mind. It was a stupid move, stupid and thoughtless.

He got up, lazily dusting off the seat of his pants before heading back to town for the night. He’d find out what the Sheriff’s lips were like before Nagase put a bullet in him. It just wasn’t the right time, and he’d have to wait for the Sheriff to be as lonely as Jun was. The town was still deserted, until he reached Ninomiya’s saloon.

The proprietor himself was sitting out on the porch, rocking back and forth in a creaking chair with a glass of something. “Evening,” Nino offered, some crafty look in his eyes as usual. Was we he acting so cordial? Jun chose to say nothing. “Something wrong, Matsumoto? Get your heart broken?”

Jun shoved his hands in his pockets. It wouldn’t surprise him if this weasel hadn’t followed him to the edge of town. Man had ammunition now if he’d stayed long enough. “Be ready in that steeple tomorrow.”

“Be there with bells on,” Ninomiya said, raising the glass to him. “I’m sure you’ll have the Sheriff covered?”

He ignored Nino, letting his tired feet carry him back to Aiba’s, the other man’s chortling laughter following him the whole way.


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was approaching its most upright position in the sky, shortening the shadows all over town, and there was still no sign of the Sandburg Boys; the wooden goods sign flapping against the beam it was mounted on was the only sound down the main drag of road. Sho didn't like the anticipation- it was making everyone's nerves more explosive, less edgy. The more they had to wait, the longer the knots of dread in their bellies would get, and it did not bode well for their chances.

From the grimy windows of the bakery, Ohno gave him a nod. Ninomiya was already in the steeple with his shotgun, and Sho wasn't ashamed to admit he felt like there was a target strapped to the back of his shirt as he walked cross the dirt. He had to trust the other man not to start sniping at his own guns; he just wasn't sure if he did.

There were footsteps behind him.

"We're ready," Aiba said. His cheer sounded a bit forced. "When do you think they'll get here?"

"Before the sun starts to dip again," came the answer. When Matsumoto had arrived in the space behind him, Sho didn't know. He swallowed down the clog in his throat, keeping his back to them until he felt his face was composed enough. Now everytime Jun showed up, Sho's blood was on high alert. He already had reckless courage screaming through his body, he didn't need anything else to help.

The gunslinger's expression was unreadable when the sheriff finally spun on his heel.

"Keep to your places," Sho ordered, staring at Jun's boots. Seemed like the safest bet. "There will probably be a wave from the north and from the south. As soon as we start firing, they've got our position."

"And Ninomiya?" Jun asked.

"Let him shoot," Sho sighed. "Just let him shoot. Maybe he'll hit his targets this time."

When nothing more was said, the tension seemed to increase. Sho cleared his throat and looked down the road, towards the blacksmith's forge and the winding entrance into town. He thought maybe he should say something else, but when he opened his mouth to do so, nothing came out. Everything was just a shade of blank slate. He shut his jaw with a snap, aware that he looked ridiculous.

Aiba shifted his weight from heel to heel, toes skimming across pebbles. He never had reacted well to such anxiety palpable on the air.

"Well," he said, finally, "I'm gonna wait with the men in the stoop of Doc's place."

Sho gave a little noise of agreement, and the deputy shuffled away. Sho didn't miss him turning just once to give the two a lingering glance over his shoulder.

Another period of quiet. Sho wondered if everyone could hear his heart pounding in his chest.

"G'luck today," Matsumoto said.

"Ah," Sho started a bit. He crossed his arms, and then uncrossed them again, and unable to find a good place for them, settled on shoving his hands into his pockets instead. "Yeah. I mean, thanks. You too."

Jun leveled him with an odd stare that Sho caught as he was trying to shift his gaze from the relative safety of Nino's empty saloon to the Johnson windmill just beyond the sloping roof. The desert burned bright beyond the farm, almost blinding in the noon sun.

"Sheriff, I-"

"Right, then," Sho interrupted. Panic was a heady drug. "Guess we should get ready."

He turned without giving Jun a chance to elaborate or continue what he'd been trying to articulate- not then. Sho couldn't handle it then. His palms were already sweaty with the thought of more killin's on town land, especially those by his barrels. There was too much wrapped into his thoughts to deal with any more.

His station was on the end, tucked up against the path to the creek, and he'd never been quite so thankful for its relative isolation on the side of town before. He grabbed his shotgun, checked the rounds, and settled in to wait.

\--

The shadows on the steeple cooled the perch, but it would make it harder to see when the time came. He didn't need anyone to tell him that, least of all some Yankee greenhorn thinking he could be sheriff. Nino kept one hand on the handle of his rifle while scanning the desert just beyond the outer edge of town. His fingers were jumpy, twitching towards the trigger.

He could do it. He knew where Jun was; he was across the road, in the porch just outside the tailor's shop. Nino could pick him off as soon as the showdown started and no one woud ever be the wiser to whose bullet had lodged itself between his eyes.

Sheriff might suspect, but he wasn't enough authority to question it. Nino let his gaze wander down to the windows of the store, and the stillness inside. One well-aimed shot, that's all it took. And then her blood splattered 'cross the sand wasn't left un-avenged any longer. He owed it to her, to their memories together- to her body pooling blood on his linens and her petticoat ripped and shredded.

Fingers closed around the handle, and he tsk-ed, pulling his hand away again.

Not yet.

He turned to fight the temptation away, one hand over his eyes.

Movement; a flash of it against the sea of haunting yellowness. Nino's heart leapt to his throat. He crouched down, keeping his gaze on the figure- it was alone, at least for the few seconds that felt like eternity when Nino thought just a scout, just a messenger, comin' to warn everyone- because then there were more swarming behind him. Mendoza hadn't been generous enough to send a messenger. Mendoza had sent half his gang, and that was just the number coming from the south corner he could see.

He grabbed for the rifle. He couldn't shout a warning to the rest, but the blast of the barrels would be alert enough. He had one clear shot before they realized he was up there- one opportunity to take out the leader and cripple the operation as best he could.

Nino waited. They got closer, and he could finally hear the stampede of hooves against the sands, like rolling thunder clouds approaching. He jammed the butt of the gun up against the crook of his shoulder, taking careful aim. His muscles were trembling. One eye closed, line up the muzzle-

He pulled the trigger. There was a split second of gut-wrenching panic that he'd missed, and then the figure on the closest horse jerked backwards, clutching at his chest. He fell, slipping off the saddle, and his foot caught in the stirrup. The horse spooked and dragged him a few feet before his body detangled and fell motionless in the sand.

A cry rose up against the sweltering heat. They saw him now. And the others knew they were there.

Nino didn't give it much more thought before he started shooting again.

\--

Jun heard the first shot before he saw any of the gang riding in. There was a roar, and then another, and they appeared on the horizon line. The initial bullet seemed to have set off a chain reaction- suddenly gunfire was everywhere. They were too far for the aim to be good, but a few hit the wall near the window he was peering out of and rattled the boards.

The men were nervous. Mendoza had sent half the gang out after them, a dingy little backwater town in the middle of nowhere; they had scared him good, then, something awful. No way the man would risk so many for a useless grudge killin'.

Jun fired off a few bullets of his own. None of them hit. The roar was deafening as they gained, screaming towards Rapid Springs with the kind of liquid movement only horses under pain of spurs could achieve.

More bullets raining in around them, and this time the shots were closer- better aim.

Jun shot back, taking one in the front down. A bullet richocheted off the beam nearest to him, and then another went through the window. He ducked his head when the glass shattered, pulling his hat down over his eyes. A few shards caught him in the wrist, but the fire in his veins kept him from really feeling it. He threw himself up to shoot back through the opening made by the broken pane.

"Go!" he shouted, waving the other men forward- their cover was all but blown inside, anyway, and it was impeding their shooting accuracy. He ran out and fired off a few more until his shotgun clicked empty. He didn't even bother to reload it, he just threw it to the side and grabbed for both revolvers, emptying rounds into the air.

There were more coming from the sands, closer to Doc's place- he could see smoke from the porch signaling Aiba's shooting, but then there was a crack and a splintering of wood, and the beams of the overhang creaked and groaned down. A shout- the deputy? At least Jun could still hear his voice; meant the man was still alive.

"Dammit," Jun hissed. A bullet rang too close for comfort by his ear. He hit the man nearest to him in the chest, and then the next in the arm; both would probably live. Spooked the horses enough, though, to get them out of the way. He ran out, guns blazing, until they ran empty.

A horse from nowhere, coming from around the Johnson's windmill, and the man had a clear shot. Jun ducked and rolled and narrowly avoided an extra hole in his head. He grabbed for the knife in his belt. Less precision than his guns, but it worked well enough- he hurled it towards the horse and managed to bury it in the Sandburg's side. A gurgled moan and an arc of red against the sky, and the man fell with both hands clutching the hilt protruding out from his skin. Jun would collect the weapon later.

He ran, reaching down to take the fallen gang member's rifle. It wasn't empty yet.

The shooting from the Johnson farm had ceased, and he cursed again; that meant their men had gone down. If they lost the corner, the Sandburgs had an easy way into town.

He whirled, firing on several more. Where was the sheriff?

\--

Sho's shoulder was already throbbing from gripping the shotgun too tightly against his form. He didn't know how many he'd actually managed to hit- at least one he'd just grazed the horse of, and the animal had bolted off in the other direction, taking his rider with him. A beam exploded near his arm, splintering shards into the air.

"Fucking-" he hissed, not finishing. He dodged instead, moving out of the confines of the station. The bullets followed, zinging against the wood until he all but threw himself behind the trough out front. A quick glance over his shoulder told him they were in town. "Jesus-"

He shot a few times, but his aim was wildly off. A ricochet against the metal, and then against the porch, so loud it was deafening.

Sho reached for his holster. He felt naked with his shotgun, but he needed to conserve the ammo; the revolver would do until it ran out, for a little while. He aimed with shaking hands and managed to clip one rider in the leg. The other shot at him, and he could see the dust rise into the air from where the bullet had hit the ground, inches away from his leg.

Too close.

"Jun!" he hollered. There was no sign of the gunslinger. Christ, had he gone down already? "Aiba!"

The stamping of hooves, and he rolled over onto his belly past the trough, firing up. Caught the horse in the hindquarters and the man in the face; both fell, splattering the ground with crimson. Sho pushed himself up and ran, staying near the buildings. There was gunfire coming from every corner of the town, and he didn't know whose it was. He couldn't see anything, or make out any shapes.

A bullet whizzed by his ear. He crumpled- it would have been far too late had the aim been a little more on, but at least his ducking allowed the second shot to miss wide. Crawling across the porch of Nino's saloon, he flattened himsef up against the wall. Henderson was firing in the building next, but his gunfire stopped abruptly.

Shit.

Sho glanced up towards the steeple. Was Nino still going? He couldn't tell, there was too much noise. He made his way towards Henderson, bullets hitting the wood beams behind him, and found the man lying with shrapnel in his face- or at least what had used to be his face. Sho wasn't entirely sure he'd have been able to recognize the man if he hadn't known who was firing from the locale, with all the blood.

He didn't even bother to wipe the splatters off the man's shotgun when he picked it up, firing out through the broken window.

\--

The powder hissed and the trigger jammed, and Nino dropped the offending weapon with an angry cry of frustration. He couldn't shoot fast enough to keep them out of town- they were making their way down the main drag, hands in the sky like victory celebrations. There was another gun but he couldn't find it in the shadows, and he felt around until his fingers came in contact with the cool metal.

Shots down on the road- looking over the side, Nino watched Jun roll out from the Johnson place, between the forge and the wall, guns blazing. His aim was good, but there were a lot of them.

Nino hesitated for a second- and only a second- before firing on the men coming from behind Matsumoto. He took down one, and then Jun spun and hit the second.

A cry in Spanish, hoarse and raw amongst the gunfire.

Whatever it was, it caught the Sandburgs attention, and at least Jun took advantage of the situation. He clipped one man in the shin and another in the shoulder, and then a third through the back of the head. The rest echoed the cry, and then the horses started screaming and the figures turned- back towards the horizon.

Retreat.

A gasp of relief lodged itself in Nino's throat. He aimed and fired but missed. They were faster heading out than they had been heading in- and in far fewer numbers. The dirt was littered with bodies and angry splashes of red against the beige.

He kept firing until the figures had faded into the hazy heat beyond, and then sucked in a shuddering, painful breath.

\--

His legs were shaking when he stood up from his crouched position near Henderson's body. There was a bitter copper taste in the back of his throat, on his tongue; Sho avoided looking back at the man's form again, for fear that the reality would set in faster than the Sandburg's retreat had.

The others had the same idea, moving slowly out into the street. Against his better judgment, Sho whirled to find Jun- he owed the man a debt, it appeared, if the number of bodies on the dirt were anything to go by. Somehow they'd managed to eke out a win despite being outnumbered.

He found Matsumoto standing down the road, re-holstering his revolvers. Something lessened in his chest. Ohno walked shakily out of the goods store, looking dirty but no worse for the wear. In the steeple, Ninomiya was moving, opening the hatch to get back down. Henderson was gone, and from the looks of the red splattered against the side of Johnson's proch, so was he- but the rest of the bodies seemed to be Mendoza's gang. Sho checked them all anyway, one by one, just to make certain.

"Aiba?" Jun asked, jogging over to him, silghtly short of breath.

"Aiba?" Sho repeated, and then turned. Where was the deputy?

"Doc's got hit," Jun answered his unspoken question. "I don't know what happened."

Doc Ogura's front porch was in shambles, but the blacksmith was dragging himself out of the debris even as Sho and Jun approached. There was blood on his shirt-sleeve. He accepted Sho's hand and rose to his feet, coughing and shaking but alive and breathing; better than the alternative.

"Just hit the beams," Aiba wheezed. "Musta been just right. Whole thing collapsed."

"Thank your lucky stars, then," Sho said.

"Or thank that Doc hadn't repaired that stoop," Jun pointed out. "Probably kept you covered."

"They take off?" Aiba asked.

"Mm," Sho nodded.

"You know they ain't gonna give up that easy," Jun warned. Sho blinked at him in surprise, one hand still on the blacksmith's elbow to support his faltering steps.

"Easy?" Sho repeated. "You think that was easy?"

From the look on Matsumoto's face, he did. It didn't help the coils of nerves in Sho's stomach any. But Aiba was alright, and Ohno was okay, and Nino was walking slowly down the street with his shotgun in his hand, barrels dipping towards the ground- so it could have been worse. Even with the red staining the sand and soaking into the dirt, it could have been worse. Much worse.

Sho patted Aiba on the shoulder unconsciously, breathing deeply.

"Do a count," he instructed. "Total the bodies. Ours and theirs."

\------

_It was strange having another body at his side. He’d gone back and forth between sitting with the wagon driver and the coach driver. Today he was sitting on the top of the stage, and he was used to this being a solitary thing._

_Instead, she’d demanded to get out, and she’d arrayed herself here with the sun beating down. A lesser person would have already climbed down and gone back inside, but there was something about this woman. Some excitement bubbling under her surface, ready to burst at any moment, and Jun kind of envied her for it._

_The stagecoach bounced and shook over the bumpy trail, the wagon wheels creaking behind them at a steady pace. Jun was used to sitting up top, accustomed to the jostling, but she sure wasn’t. There was a thin rail along the top, and she held on tight. He wouldn’t let her fall. He kept his shotgun in his lap as she undid the ties of her bonnet, letting her blonde curls free._

_“You don’t talk much, do you, Jun?”_

_He shrugged. “Usually don’t have anyone to talk to."_

_Her smile was big and bright, and it warmed him in a far more pleasant way than the sun overhead. “Well, you got me. And I’m not going to sit out here and stare at the tumbleweeds in complete silence.”_

_Jun chuckled. “You’ll get where you’re going soon enough. You don’t need to go wasting your time chatting with a fella like me when you get to see your man in an hour.”_

_She sighed. “You don’t talk, Kazu talks more than he oughta, and here’s me, stuck in the middle. I swear, you men drive us crazy.”_

_He adjusted his hat, checking behind to make sure there weren’t any bandits coming from any direction. “Okay.” He looked at her. “Okay, what do you want to talk about that’s worth sitting up here and not inside like you should be?”_

_She smarted at that. He’d argued with her for nearly an hour before they set out that morning that she should stay inside the coach, but she’d have none of it. Hell, Jun thought, woman could have taken the train all the way in, and it would have only been half a day’s ride by buggy to Rapid Springs. But she was as stubborn as the man who’d hired him. Jun figured they were a perfect match._

_“Alright, Mister Protector. Since you’re gonna drop me in town and disappear into the dust again.” She tightened her grip on the rail, moving to face him a bit more. If she wasn’t careful, she’d topple, and he’d be fucked if he let her fall or had to grab her roughly to keep her steady. Women were a real pain. “Tell me about you.”_

_“Ain’t much to tell.”_

_She winked. “I bet all you rough and tumble types out here say that stuff. Fine, where you from?”_

_He sighed. Interrogations from clients were rare. He usually just did his job and took his pay. “Texas. My father…or the man my mama claimed was my father, well, he fought at the Alamo.”_

_“How? I thought all those boys died. And besides, you ain’t any older than Kazu so you can stop your lying.” But she was still smiling, even with the sun beating down on her dark brown dress._

_“California. Gold Rush baby.”_

_“That the truth this time?”_

_His past was his business. “Sure is.”_

_She wasn’t buying it. “Alright, it’s obvious you play your cards close. Fine. Why don’t you tell me about Rapid Springs? My fiancé mostly just talks about the saloon he’s built, how much money he’s had to spend and how much it pains him to do so.” She chuckled at that, and Jun merely nodded. He didn’t really know this Ninomiya, so he couldn’t add much to her chatter._

_It was a hole. Sure, the new saloon would bring some respectability to town, make it more than a splotch on the newer maps the territory surveyors were putting out. But it was dusty, and Jun rarely took jobs there on account of the townsfolk having very little coin to pay him with. He was surprised he’d even taken this job, but the company was worth it, even if it had just been a few days._

_“Rapid Springs is growing,” he said, trying to be positive. The terrain was changing, and Friendship Pass was coming up soon. He’d have to let her go to her fiancé, and much as he wasn’t used to the feeling inside, he’d actually miss her. Most of the women out this way were coarse and filthy. Ninomiya was a lucky man indeed. “I’m sure your saloon will bring a lot more folks out here.”_

_“That’s what we’re hoping.” She took his hand. Not to be flirtatious or anything, but her eyes were genuine, and he had to swallow to keep himself calm. “We’re getting married, Kazu and me. Soon as I settle in. You’ll come?”_

_He listened to the horses, pounding the dirt trail as they made their way down between the canyon walls. “That’s up to your gentleman.”_

_“Don’t go calling Kazu a gentleman. He’s not one, and don’t let him tell you he is.”_

_Jun chuckled. He didn’t much like sticking around, but she was so earnest and kind that it was impossible to say no. “I’ll sit on the bride’s side of the chapel, if you’ll have me.”_

_She smiled again, squeezing his hand tight. When she opened her mouth to say something more, they nearly went flying as the stagecoach pulled to an abrupt stop. He had one hand on his shotgun and the other around her waist in an instant. The wagon behind them came to a creaking halt._

_The driver was spooked something awful. “Thought I saw…thought I…”_

_He was on the move already, getting her down from the roof. “In the coach, now.”_

_“Jun, what’s going on? What’s wrong? Jun, tell me…”_

_He heard horses, coming from the other end of the pass, and his heart started to race. “In the coach. Get in the coach!”_

_The thundering sound increased in volume. They were trapped. Couldn’t back up, they were too heavy. Too slow. He nearly shoved her inside, her dress catching in the door as he slammed it shut._

_Her eyes were wide. “Jun! Jun, what’s happening?”_

_He cocked his shotgun and adjusted the brim of his hat. “Lock it. And don’t you come out until I let you out.”_

_She was smacking her hand against the glass when the riders approached. “Jun! Jun!”_

“Chili’s done.”

_“JUN!”_

He jolted, feeling the tip of Ohno’s shoe poking him in the ribs. “Hey, you awake?”

Jun shook the memories away. It was like a waking dream. It was so easy to drift away, let his thoughts go to that awful day, especially now that he was here in this town again. “Sorry, must have dozed off.”

His back ached, and he’d been leaning against the post at the front of Ohno’s store. Maybe he should have become a grave digger, Jun thought, seeing as he’d spent the better part of the week breaking the soil with a rusty shovel down by the churchyard.

Ohno held out a hand, and though he normally wouldn’t accept, he let the other man get him to his feet. “You’ve never tasted chili like this. Habanero peppers.”

Jun’s stomach grumbled at the thought. He’d never handled spicy too well, despite living out here his whole existence. But food was food, and it had been a long day. Aiba had already rode off for Clearwater to relay the unhappy news about Henderson to his wife, now a widow. The women and children would stay out there another week at least, just to be safe. The Sandburg gang had been beaten back. For now. They’d have a few days to relax. Maybe Mendoza would send a white flag or call for a truce. Jun didn’t know the man. It was up to Sakurai to determine what was next.

Ohno led him through the dry goods store, past the register and back through his living quarters to the yard behind the place. There were tables set up for all the men to eat after their hard day and lanterns hung to keep things visible. The only seats left were at the last table – and Jun’s choices were limited. He could sit next to the sheriff or next to Ninomiya and neither option piqued his interest.

“Okay. Time to eat,” Ohno announced in his calm, easygoing way and turned to go back to his kitchen. Nino was already munching on bread, his gaze boring a hole straight through Jun. The sheriff hadn’t bothered to look up. Instead he seemed to be studying every slight crack in the wood.

“Didn’t think you’d join us,” Ninomiya said, ripping into another roll. “Thought you’d finally be gone.”

“He’s staying until the business with Mendoza’s finished,” Sho muttered. “He promised that.”

He had promised that. Probably shouldn’t have. Nino watched him like a hawk. “How noble. But really, Mendoza’s done for. He won’t hit this town again. He’s lost too many.”

“Don’t know that for sure,” the sheriff retorted. Ohno’s door opened again, and the man came out with a heavy looking pot. The smell was near divine. He started ladling bits of the hearty looking chili into bowls at the first tables. Jun remained standing. He wondered if he could take a bowl full and just go to Aiba’s for a bit of solitude.

No. There was no way Ohno would allow that. This meal was a celebration of sorts. A mourning of sorts, too. But they were all breaking bread together, and Jun had already caused the town enough trouble. He headed for a seat on the bench beside Ninomiya, if only to not have to look at his smirking face the whole meal, but the man set down a hand.

“’Fraid not. The chef’s sitting next to me so he can fetch me seconds.” The man munched on the bread, his eyes lazily drifting from the hunched over sheriff and back up at Jun. “And thirds. Maybe fourths, depending on my appetite.”

Jun said nothing, settling himself on the bench next to Sho. Ohno came by with the pot of chili, oblivious, and gave each of them a sizable serving. Jun concentrated on the food in his bowl, his glass of water and the still warm bread. Ohno joined them, and Nino engaged the baker in some idle conversation about food shipments and things like that. The sheriff didn’t contribute, and neither did Ohno, at least not much.

The other tables were chatting away about who’d shot which of Mendoza’s men, bragging about their kills like it had been a deer or a wolf. The food was hot, and the spice ached enough to send him for his water repeatedly. Sho was downing the chili faster than he probably should have, but it was obvious he wanted to get out of there and get away from him. Jun couldn’t blame him – he’d done enough to weird the sheriff out.

Ohno cleared his throat, sitting down again after fetching seconds for Nino. “Saw you up in the steeple. Better shot than I reckoned.”

Jun dug the spoon into the spicy chili, shoving it in his mouth. Ninomiya could have shot him any time, and much as Jun was loath to admit it, Ninomiya’s shooting had saved his own hide. “Well, we’re even now,” Nino said venomously, and Jun knew without glancing up that the saloon owner was still eyeing him.

“Even?” Ohno continued, pouring salt on the open wound.

“You know, for the other day when the sheriff still had me enjoying the comforts of his fine cell.”

“Oh. Right.”

Jun felt the bench move, jostling him a bit as Sho backed up. “Thanks for the chili, Satoshi. It was amazing.” His voice was strong, but it rang false. He’d only known the man for a week now, but he could already sense when he was putting on an act. “Y’all have a safe night now. Mendoza’s gonna stay quiet, I wager, at least for a few days. We’ll start with building repairs bright and early.”

There was a raucous chorus of “Night, Sheriff!” and “God bless you, Sheriff” from the other men, but where Jun expected the man to idle and soak up the praise he’d craved for so long, he just tipped his hat and went back through Ohno’s door and through his shop.

“Been a long day,” Ohno remarked, dipping some bread in his bowl.

Nino nodded. “Half the glass in my place is busted up. Don’t know whether to order more or wait until Mendoza’s done messing around with us.”

Jun was tired. Aiba would be out all night, staying in Clearwater rather than risking traveling back late. The blacksmith’s home would be empty and quiet, and Jun found himself the slightest bit depressed. Having the deputy’s company and snoring during the night had been oddly comforting.

“Be turning in now,” he announced to no one in particular. Nino watched him, and Ohno simply ate his chili.

The men bid him a good night just as they had the sheriff minutes earlier. It was strange to have been accepted and even thanked, but he’d fought alongside them hours earlier. Working towards a common goal and defending themselves with rapid gunfire seemed to be all the uniting folks did out here.

He decided not to track his boots through Ohno’s store, walking around the outside and down the way to Aiba’s place. The deputy had insisted on letting Jun have his bed while he was gone, and it would be the best night’s sleep he’d had in days. That morning, he hadn’t even known if he’d be making it to this point. Sleeping would be even sweeter a victory tonight.

The front door to the simple clapboard house opened with a creak, and Jun let the darkness wash over him. Couldn’t wait to get his boots off and lie down. So he was more than a little distracted with those thoughts when he was caught off guard and knocked back against the door.

His hand went instinctively for his hip holster, and he drew his revolver, putting it right in the other person’s face. He was just about to pull the trigger when his eyes adjusted to the dark, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The sheriff put his hand on the gun barrel, pushing it aside wordlessly.

Jun holstered the revolver, not shoving the other man away. “You’re trespassing on your own deputy’s property.” Sho said nothing, standing in the dark, hand still keeping Jun pressed back against Aiba’s door. He could feel the sheriff’s hand shaking. “Why are you here?”

Sho stepped closer, his boot dragging with a loud scraping sound across the floorboard. Jun felt the other man’s warm breath against his face.

“I don’t know.”

Jun wasn’t sure which of them moved forward first, but their noses hit before their mouths did, and he couldn’t stifle a moan at the first taste. It was the habanero from the chili, but he didn’t care, reaching for Sho by the fabric of his vest, the palm of his hand scraping against the man’s star.

Sho hadn’t thought his actions through, that much was obvious. He was shaking like a leaf, lips parted and nearly motionless as Jun kissed him. His hands were limp at his sides, and Jun had to keep himself from laughing. He’d come all the way to Aiba’s house, lying in wait, but he just hadn’t considered what that meant, had he? Jun pushed forward, away from the door and took the upper hand.

The sheriff’s boots scraped the floor again as Jun pushed them, reaching between them to find the buttons holding the man’s vest closed. Sho hissed in surprise as Jun bit roughly at the other man’s lower lip, craving more than the sheriff had been prepared to offer. He was just getting the vest open when he heard a horse in the stables next door whinny loudly.

The noise made the sheriff gasp, pulling away like he’d just been saved from drowning. “Sho,” he muttered, reaching for the man again, but it was too late, and it seemed that Sheriff Sakurai’s brain had finally caught up with the rest of him.

Jun stood, chewing on his own lip as Sho stumbled to the door, not bothering to fix his vest. The door opened quickly and slammed shut, and he listened to the retreating footsteps on the porch before collapsing into Aiba’s chair.

_“Why are you here?”_

Sho’s voice had sounded so lost, so confused. Petrified. _“I don’t know.”_

Jun kicked off his boots and laughed bitterly until his throat ached.

\-----

"How was it?" Ohno asked, collecting the plates from the tables and carrying them in stacks back towards the counter.

"Your cooking is always good," Nino told him honestly. It was worth it to watch the slow, pleased smile that spread across the baker's face; Ohno had been rattled, a bit, the past few days. Never shot a man before, and probably never thought he would have to, but he'd taken down at least two of the Sandburg Boys out the window of his store, and Nino would have to lie to say he wasn't proud of his friend. Mettle was determined in the unfortunate parts of life. He knew that the hard way; didn't mean he wanted his friends to go through the same thing.

"Just glad we could do it together," Ohno mumbled, bent over the dishes as he scraped discarded remains into the slop bucket. The wooden spoon squeaked against the tin. "Nice to do something, after all this."

"Nice we still have a place to do it," Nino said.

"Mm," Ohno agreed. "That, too."

"Like the peppers," Nino said, with a nod towards the rinds still on the wooden cutting board. "You should use them more often."

The baker turned, wiping his hands on his apron, smiling once more.

"Think I will," he mused, mostly to himself. Nino let his gaze wander over the other folk still eating and talking, heads bent low and plates nearly clean, and then to the door. Outside, the desert moon was hanging low in the sky, illuminating the road wtih a blue hue. It was clear- fitting, maybe. As in the clear as they'd been in awhile, anyway. Rapid Springs wasn't off Mendoza's hit list yet, that much was certain, but at least they'd managed to spook him.

Wasn't much going on outside the building, but there was a flash of movement. His nerves were obviously still on high alert, because Nino's first instinct was to reach down for the gun he didn't have on him. A second look relayed it was only the sheriff, walking quickly down the dusty road.

Walking with his vest half-undone and flapping a bit in the breeze.

Nino leaned in closer to the grimy window. Sheriff Sakurai looked like he'd seen a ghost, all pale and wide-eyed and movin' fast as a bat outta hell. It was more than a little satisfying, and Nino's throat ached a bit in response- he hadn't forgotten the law that got laid down in the meeting, and he wasn't apt to anytime soon. Yankee do-gooder still thought he could waltz into Rapid Springs and own the place, and beating back Mendoza's gang hadn't changed the fact that his feet were barely wet. This was Nino's town before it was Sho's, and Nino didn't even like to claim much ownership to the place.

"What about onions?" Ohno asked, over the din, still scrubbing remnants into the pail.

"Sure," Nino said, absently. His mind wasn't on vegetables that would work well with the chili recipe- he watched the sheriff stagger up to the station and disappear in the shadows, and then slowly moved his gaze along the path the man had just taken. Blacksmith's forge. Aiba was out on messenger duty- wasn't nobody there.

Nobody save Matsumoto.

"Hey, Ohno," Nino called. "I'm gonna head out."

"Alright," was the response, and Nino pushed the door open and stepped out into the oppressive night air. The door to the sheriff's station was securely shut, and from the lack of lantern flickers inside, it didn't look as if he'd be coming out any time soon. Nino squinted over at the building, ignoring the clenching sensation in his stomach.

His saloon was right across the street. He started forward, and turned left.

The sound of insect songs off in the dunes was the only thing he could hear other than his own footsteps. He didn't know what Sakurai would do if Mendoza brought his boys back for a second showdown. He didn't know why Matsumoto was still hanging around like he was welcome. And he didn't know much other than getting one or both of them out of town and its benefits for him; at least then he wouldn't have to deal with the raging egos and arrogance the two brought along with them.

There weren't any lights on in the windows of Aiba's house- not even back where Nino knew the man's bedroom was. He pushed his fingers against the outer door. If he couldn't get in- well, he'd turn right around and go back to his saloon and forget the idea had even entered his mind. Wasn't any use of breaking in just to rattle cages. But the door creaked slowly open with any resistance; apparently the sheriff had left Jun in such a tizzy that the man had forgotten to lock it.

Well.

Nino stepped inside, and the boards squeaked beneath his boots.

A few steps more and he was at the doorway to the bedroom, pushing the portal open. It made more noise than he'd anticipated, and the figure was up and moving faster than Nino had thought possible. There was a muzzle in his face, and a split second after, tired laughter.

"What is this?" Jun chuckled mirthlessly. "Everyone in this town show up without announcement at Aiba's shop? I could have blown your head off."

"Could've," Nino agreed. Jun fell back, and set the gun back down on the dresser. If the positions had been reversed, Nino wouldn't have let go of his weapon. "Gotta lotta visitors tonight, Jun?"

Jun leveled him with a hard look. In the moonlight streaming in through the windows, he looked exhausted.

"You come to pick a fight?" he asked sharply. "I'd rather it wait til morning, myself."

"There's a lotta things in life you don't get to choose," Nino said.

"You come for revenge, then?"

A brief silence, and Jun moved his hands wearily through his hair. His clothing was crumpled, and his hair was askew, and he really did look like you could blow on the man and he'd collapse completely.

"Maybe," Nino answered, deciding to leave it open. Didn't really matter what Matsumoto thought his motives were, in the long run, and he didn't much feel like explaining.

"Go ahead, then," Jun sighed. He crossed his arms over his head. "Kill me without a gun."

There were a hundred things Nino could have had stashed besides a pistol to kill the man with- a knife in his boot, a hot iron poker from the forge just beyond the wall; hell, a strong enough batch of Doc Ogura's wares and Jun would be cold by morning. He had none of them. But he wasn't weaponless.

Ninomiya, if nothing else, was good at watching people.

He took a step closer, and Jun's eyes flickered up briefly, sizing him up. Trying to figure out where his head was.

"You know," Nino started conversationally, "what I can't figure out is why you're still here. Deal's done- fight's over. Why haven't you left yet?"

Jun didn't say anything, but he looked a great deal more alert. He hadn't stopped Nino from moving forward yet. Nino cocked his head to one side, raising his eyebrows. At least standing while Jun sat on the bed, he was taller.

"So I'm thinkin'- must be a reason, right? Must be a reason you ain't skipped town yet."

He was fast when he wanted to be, especially when he wanted to catch someone off-guard. He had Jun pushed flat back against the mattress before the other man knew what had him him. It was easy to straddle his position, one hand tightly wrapped around Jun's slender wrists. Nino leaned forward, so close their noses were almost touching, and Jun's quick breathing was hot against his face.

"Wouldn't have anything to do with our pretty new sheriff, would it?" he hissed. Jun's eyes went, if possible, even wider, and it was easy to tell given the proximity. Nino could feel the strain as he tried to pull his hands away, but he wasn't in a position to lend much strength, and Nino's blood was screaming.

He pressed down harder on the gunslinger's wrists, and Jun's breath hitched a little- whether in surprise or alarm, Nino didn't really care.

"Would it, Jun?" he repeated.

"What-" Jun started, and Nino felt a trill of satisfaction hearing his voice warble slightly. He switched his grasp so that both of Jun's wrists were pinned under one hand, leaving his other free to move- down Jun's shirt front, across the belt buckle.

"But I just saw him runnin' outta here like he couldn't get away fast enough," Nino said, as his palm reached the other man's trousers, relishing in Jun's shocked gasp. "Whatever did you do to him to make him look like that?"

He curled his fingers, and was rewarded with another gasp- this one sounding strangled. Every hair on Nino's body was standing alert, nerves alight.

"Go ahead," he whispered. "Tell me to stop."

Jun didn't say anything- his eyes were pinched shut, and when Nino's hand began moving up and down his cock, he threw his head back a bit, groaning.

"Or better yet," Nino continued, leaning down so his mouth was grazing Jun's jaw, lingering far too close to the other man's ear, "pretend I'm him."

Another groan, catching in the back of Jun's throat.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" Nino asked. Jun opened his eyes, looking like he wanted to argue, to say something, to throw Nino off and rail against him. But his hips were moving of their own accord into Nino's hand, and his jaw shut with an audible snap and a hissing exhale of air. His muscles were shaking; Nino could feel them trembling beneath him.

"Well?" he asked.

"You-" but it seemed Jun couldn't get much more out past his clenched teeth than that, and he moaned- a real moan, just like the whimpering, breathy, bliss-laced moan Nino's whores had been trained to emulate when coin was thrown at them.

"Me?" Nino asked. "Or Sho?"

Maybe it was the use of Sakurai's name, maybe not; didn't really matter. Jun gasped and jerked and his muscles trembled for seconds longer as the after-math rippled through his form. Nino abruptly let go of his wrists, casually swinging his leg around to slide off the bed. There was something singing in his veins, something that tasted an awful lot like victory; kind of a hot, stinging sensation.

Jun opened his eyes a bit, staring at Nino through heavy lashes.

"Odd it had to be me, right?" Nino asked, smiling. "Maybe your reason for stickin' around ain't much of a reason after all."

He left Matsumoto lying shell-shocked on Aiba's bed, and slammed the front door with a violent bang.

\--------

The metal wire sliced through his hand, stinging and drawing a red streak across his skin. “Son of a bitch.”

He’d been helping Thompson repair his fence for the better part of the morning. Throughout town, things were being mended and rebuilt. A few of the Sandburgs had crawled under or torn up the fencing here, and it wasn’t much of an animal pen until it was fixed. The windmill creaked, and Sho focused as much as he could on fixing the fence.

Which was growing more and more difficult as the sun baked his skin, and his thoughts wandered every which way. Last night had been a mistake. He should’ve turned the other way coming out of Ohno’s. He should’ve just gone to sleep, let his sinful thoughts drift away. But he hadn’t. He’d been impulsive.

He’d gone to talk. Or that’s how he’d rationalized it. But when Jun came in the door, panic had set in. He had never felt this way before. Hell, he didn’t know what he felt. For every little part of the quiet but intense gunman that annoyed Sho, there were a hundred more things that drew him near. Like a moth to a flame, he was unable to keep away until his faith and his so-called rational mind let him know that he was in the wrong.

It was a sin. These thoughts plaguing him, going off in his head like a firecracker each time he thought of Jun’s sun-kissed skin, the coarseness of his hands, and the way his belt hung so low on his hips. It was forbidden and wrong, but they’d talked about Sunday school the other night. Of Cain and Abel, of David and Goliath. Funny how David and Jonathan hadn’t come up.

He shook his head and twisted the metal together. It had been a stupid, stupid idea. But the other man had wanted it too, hadn’t he? He’d been drunk the other night, and Sho had thought it some silly fluke, but Ohno had served water with his chili, and the frugal Ninomiya hadn’t donated any liquor for the dinner. The other man had been acting freely and soberly, roughly pulling at the buttons of Sho's clothes.

Matsumoto either wanted him or took any offer that came his way, so long as he got paid in kind. Sho grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket, tying it around his hand and knotting it tight to stop the bleeding. Wasn’t worth another visit to Doc. He licked his lips, tongue drawn to the slight scabbing on the lower corner of his mouth. It was the heat, Sho told himself, deliberately ignoring the prickling between his thighs at the memory of the night before.

He was going to get heatstroke if he crouched down by the fence any longer without having anything to sustain him. Thompson was already napping under his porch, and Sho got to his feet. It was midday already, and definitely time for a break. Aiba had returned that morning and was coordinating the repairs to the Doc’s place, and for all that the sheriff knew, Matsumoto was helping with that too.

Jun would leave soon, once Mendoza backed down. Then he could get back to himself. Ever since the man had come to town, Sho had had nothing but trouble. Once Jun was gone, there’d be no sinful thinking, no thoughts of a man visiting him and doing to his person what a woman should. His mind was fogging, through and through. He was out of the sun a few minutes later, under the overhang of the saloon, and he pushed through Ninomiya’s swinging doors with less enthusiasm than he usually did.

Taking off his hat and fanning himself with it, he took a seat back by the piano while the proprietor was sweeping up glass and humming a tune Sho didn’t recognize. “Well, Sheriff. Done working already for the day? Not used to much physical stuff back at Harvard, right?”

Sho set his hat down on the table and sighed. “Lay off today, Ninomiya. I’m not in the mood."

The other man set the broom down, ceasing his sweeping to head behind the bar. “You pay this time, got that?”

He nodded. “I got that.”

“Okay, what’ll it be?”

“Just something cold. Iced tea, lemonade, whatever stuff you mix together for the kids that never come in here.”

Ninomiya snorted, fumbling around with glasses. “Don’t get cute. It’s not fair if only one of us is hurling insults, Sheriff.”

Sho put his arms on the table, laying his face down and listening to the sound of Nino mixing some concoction. The sheriff knew he’d gone through his share of the man’s liquor, so he was probably getting water or milk from one of Johnson’s cows. The glass was set down a few moments later, and the chair across from him creaked as Nino sat down.

“Coin.”

He didn’t look up, shoving a hand in his pocket. Sho slapped down whatever small change he had, plus his pocket lint, and he heard the silver and tin scrape across the table as Nino pulled it over to himself.

“You got a pretty big tab, Sheriff, and one day I’ll see it paid in full.”

He murmured the closest noise to an assent he could make without moving. The sun and his thoughts about Jun had done more to his head and his focus than he’d even realized, and he felt ready to faint.

Ninomiya poked him in the arm. “What’s eatin’ you, Sheriff?”

“Nothing,” he said, sitting up with an irritated sigh. Sho downed half the glass of sweet tea Nino had brought him. “Just been mending fences for the past few hours. You know, out in the sun? Not inside where it’s cool?”

“Mmm.” The other man was suspicious. Or maybe his face was always like that on account of being a pain in the ass. He started drumming his fingers on the table. “You getting enough sleep?”

“You the doctor round here now?”

He shook his head. “Nah, I just figured since you left so early last night that you must have slept better than the rest of us.”

Sho felt a flush coming on, but hopefully his sun-burnt skin would hide it well enough. “I slept fine.”

“I’m sure you did.” He leaned forward. “How do you think Matsumoto slept?”

“What?” He was panicking, letting Ninomiya see that his insinuations were getting to him. What the hell was the man’s problem?

“Aiba’s place can get pretty hot,” Nino remarked, taking the glass Sho had been drinking out of and taking a leisurely sip. The sheriff watched him run his finger around the rim of the glass. “I mean, with the forge and all. Fire’s not always going, but the residual heat. That sort of thing. I bet it gets pretty warm inside the house.”

“Wouldn’t know.”

“You wouldn’t? He’s your deputy. You’re over there all the time.”

Sho yanked the glass from Nino’s hand, taking a long drink. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it. Stop your winking and your hinting because I’m getting really god damned tired of it.”

Nino stood, moving over to Sho’s side. He leaned forward until Sho could feel the man’s breath by his ear. “The things I know would shrivel up poor Pastor White’s heart.” Sho gripped the table, embarrassment and shame flowing through him the same as his blood. The swinging doors creaked open, and Ohno entered. But Nino was still beside him.

“You should hear the way he says your name when he comes.”

The sheriff could only sit there stunned as Nino took the glass and walked off. “Thanks for your business, Sheriff! Now, Mr. Ohno, what can I get you?”


	6. Chapter 6

The sun on his face felt like rays of damnation, peeking over the red rock formations as if laughing at him.

Jun didn't let himself glance back over his shoulder. It was early still, and he knew what he'd see; Rapid Springs lit up by the rising sun, bathed in the warmth of another sweltering day. The rays would be glistening off the bell hung in the steeple of Pastor White's parish and the dust wouldn't yet be trampled after settling all night on the main drag. He'd see Ninomiya's saloon and gag on the guilt caught in his throat again, and then he'd see the sheriff's station and double-over. He didn't need to see those things to let the anguish eat him alive like worms in his belly; his body was doing that just fine on its own.

So he kept his gaze straight ahead, fingers tight on the reins of Aiba's horse. He hoped the deputy read the note he'd left on the table and didn't blame him- the blacksmith seemed good with letting go of grudges, but it was his mare Jun had taken off on, and he didn't quite know if theft fell into the same category, note of regret and explanation or not. But he couldn't stay in Rapid Springs any longer, not with everything on his shoulders. He'd rightly screwed the whole thing up all over again, just when he thought it couldn't get any worse.

And Nino's smirk followed him, even as his roan steed trotted over the dunes.

He should have stopped him. He should have said no- shoulda put a bullet between his eyes for even making such suggestions and insinuations. But Jun hadn't done any of it, and now he felt like retching onto the sands just to purge the guilt.

He swallowed hard, and kicked at the mare's sides; she sped into a loping canter, and his legs automatically kept the rhythm with each bound. He couldn't dwell on it- there were more important things at stake, no matter how bitter anguish tasted. He'd delayed too long in going to see Nagase to explain; he knew the odds of getting shot soon as his spurs dusted the property were high, but he had to atone. Had to do something, at least, to try to make it right. He couldn't bring the dead back to life, but he could give himself as one more body, should the ex-Confederate wish it.

Not like he had much else waiting for him. The sands would be better off stained red with his life.

He clicked his tongue again and spurred the horse into a gallop, sand flying up behind her hooves as he sped away from Rapid Springs as fast as his mount would let him.

\--

"Sheriff, you seen Matsumoto?"

Nino didn't look up unpacking the crates, but he did turn his body so that he was facing the door to better pick up the conversation. Ohno seemed oblivious, rolling dough between his palms, arms covered in flour. The footsteps stopped outside the bakery doors- two of them, and the sheriff's hand still poised on the portal mid-entrance.

"What?" Sakurai asked. He sounded confused, and a bit squeaky.

"Nobody seen him all day. You cut his strings, then? Let him leave?"

A pause, and Nino ducked his head behind the dresser to hide his smile. Something had worked then, and that was more than he'd been able to say for awhile. Jun had skipped Rapid Springs of his own guilt-ridden accord, just as Nino had predicted. That just left the sheriff; the sheriff who was standing outside looking thunderstruck, visible beyond the still-broken panes of the shop windows.

"I- no, I didn't tell him to leave," Sho said, clearly rattled. "You check the forge?"

"Twice. Didn't check the house, though. You think he's still there?"

Ohno finally looked up, fingers paused over the dough. A shift and creak in the boards, as Sheriff Sakurai took a step backwards from the shop door.

"I'll check," he said, voice low, and Nino sprung into action; he wasn't going to miss the chance to see the end of this one, that was for sure. Ohno gave him an unreadable look as he crossed the shop and pushed the door open, nearly smacking Sho in the face on the swing away from the frame.

"I'll help you, sheriff," Nino said, with a nod to Thompson, who returned the gesture. "Maybe somethin' happened- never hurts to have back-up, right?"

From the set and grind to Sho's jaw, it was obvious he wanted to see Nino as far away from him as possible, but he couldn't voice it in front of other company; that would give far too much away. He just glared and took a deep breath, and the shiny star on his vest glistened in the sunlight.

"Fine," he hissed. "Let's go, then."

Feeling pleased, Nino followed Sakurai cross the dusty way and up the incline to Aiba's shop. It was still as death within the forge- odd not to hear the crackle of fire, or the panging of iron against iron as the deputy molded horseshoes over the flames. Wasn't even any stirring within the house, least not that was visible through the windows. Felt like a graveyard within the building, and it seemed to be shaking up the sheriff something awful.

Nino just pushed Aiba's front door open, motioning inside with a showy wave of his hand. "After you, sheriff."

Sho stepped through with his brow furrowed and lined, and Nino followed after him.

There was no one within the house, and the door to the bedroom was open wide- empty as well. Matsumoto had deserted early, then, to avoid being seen as he retreated from Rapid Springs like a kicked hound.

"Sure is hot in here," Nino commented, lightly. He didn't look over, but out of the corner of his vision, he could see the sheriff bristle.

"You know something 'bout this, Ninomiya?" Sho asked.

"Not a thing," Nino said honestly.

Even though the bedroom door was ajar and it was clearly unoccupied, Sho went to the doorway to look in, fingers splaying across the beam. He paused, almost like he was imagining something; his thoughts couldn't have been as good as what actually happened. Nino raised his hand to his mouth, disguising his expression a bit. Sho turned again, and glowered, but didn't say anything right away. Instead he moved back to the center of the room and put his hands on his hips. For all his bravado, he certainly looked lost.

There was a long moment when he seemed like he would voice something, and couldn't find the words.

"Not sayin' I could act as sheriff," Nino offered, examining his nails, "but if I were you, I might check that note over on the far chest."

From the way Sho started, it was obvious he hadn't noticed the paper. He moved to chest with purpose, snatching at the note. As he read, the lines on his forehead only deepened; Nino didn't know exactly what it said, but was obviously a good-bye memo of some kind, especially left for Aiba. Thanking the deputy for his hospitality, maybe.

After a long minute, the sheriff put the paper back down on the chest and stared at it.

"Took Aiba's horse," he mumbled.

"Thought maybe he'd take the bedsheets," Nino commented.

The sheriff turned around slowly, fingers clenched into fists at his sides. Even across the room Nino could see the labored rise and fall of his chest. He looked like he'd just run from the dunes beyond Doc's place to the corral past Ohno's shop several times; drained and weary, limbs sagging from exertion.

But if he wanted to say anything, it died on his tongue, and he just swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing.

"Why did you think he was gonna stay, sheriff?" Nino asked. "Fight was over."

Sho just stared at him, and Nino shrugged with a wry grin.

"Guess there wasn't much else for him to stick around for," he continued, and sighed, flicking a bit of dust off his left sleeve. He watched it fall to the ground and fade among the grains of the boards. "Pity. Woulda liked to have a rematch."

He turned, to head back towards the door, and then paused, foot halfway 'cross the bound.

"Oh, I didn't mean with my shotgun," he added. A brief glance at Sho's face made him smile- the sheriff's features had gone pale, stark against the soot-covered wall behind him. Nino jammed his hands into his pockets and stepped back out into the sunlight. It was already hotter than hell. He breathed in, and then out, and whistled a tune as he left Sho standing in Aiba's living room.

\------

He tied Aiba’s horse to a post at the town closest to Nagase’s ranch, but it was still a good three or four miles away. The last thing he needed was Aiba’s horse getting stolen. Jun paid a shopkeep with the money he’d earned from Nagase what felt like ages ago and set off on foot.

If Jun gave a damn about self-preservation, there were sneakier ways to get around to the man’s house. There was a rocky outcropping round back of the man’s house that would give him cover and allow him to avoid walking through the grazing fields. But Jun wasn’t in the mood for subterfuge, not when he needed to be honest and come clean. He walked right up the dirt trail out of town, following it west. A wooden sign marker with a big N crest on it marked the beginning of Nagase’s land soon enough.

He was on the man’s territory now. There was no turning back. Keeping his footsteps even, he continued up the path. His extensive grazing land was fenced off on either side, stretching out as far as Jun could see. There were cattle scattered there, a few hands off in the distance idling. He was totally visible, but none of the hands paid him any attention.

Which was rather strange, he thought. Maybe the man himself was waiting patiently on his porch to do the deed himself rather than having his hired help drag him over there. It was quiet, far too quiet as he continued his walk. His hand idled at his hip, feeling the butt of his revolver to make sure it was still there. Where was the big Nagase welcome? Where were the gunshots he’d expected?

All he heard was the cattle to his right and left and the sound of his own steps in the dirt. The big red barn was looming closer with the farm house beyond. Not a one of the hands in the fields had stopped his progress, and none of his other hired associates had popped out to surprise him once he got past the fields and closer to the house. Usually there were a dozen or more folks milling about, waiting for the man’s orders. Jun had been one of those men before.

He was unhindered all the way to the porch, looking around every few seconds, expecting to be ambushed. His boot hit the first step, creaking the board. Nothing. He made it past the porch swing to the front door. Nothing. Well, even a dead man walking could still have manners.

Jun knocked sharply on the screen door. “Mr. Nagase!”

No sound from inside the house.

He knocked three times. “Mr. Nagase. It’s Jun Matsumoto!”

Still nothing. His heart was starting to race. This had to be a trap. He walked around the porch, seeing no one within several hundred yards. The only folks around seemed to be the men in the fields. Maybe Nagase had sent his other crew off on a job? Well, he’d spent nearly two days getting here – he wasn’t leaving yet.

“Mr. Nagase?” he called out, opening the door and entering the man’s home. He could be shot on sight now, and nobody would say Nagase didn’t have the right. But he had to apologize, make his peace with the man. “Sir?”

He’d stayed in the man’s home before the job, and the living room was appointed sparsely. There was an oil painting of some place in Texas over the fireplace and the gleaming Confederate officer’s sword mounted proudly on the other wall.

He passed through the hall to the man’s study. Sunlight streamed through the windows, dust motes floating through the air. He hadn’t been in here before. There was a fine oak desk, probably to show the man’s affluence and respectability despite being a pretty obvious criminal. In between some bookshelves, Jun’s eye was drawn to a simple glass display case. Inside, he saw small trinkets – a few rings, buttons, and an oval locket with a simple flower design. Its silver chain gleamed in the sun. Were these Nagase’s spoils from the war?

Jun moved back into the hall, feeling nauseated. Where the hell was the man? “It’s Jun Matsumoto, sir! Are you home?”

The house was empty. He’d come at the wrong time. Or the right time, if continuing to live was something he desired. When he made it back to the porch, one of the hands was there, unarmed.

“Can I help you, sir?”

The kid couldn’t have been more than sixteen with big, earnest eyes. He probably had no idea his boss did more than raise cattle. “You know where Mr. Nagase is?”

He scratched his head. “Why, no sir I don’t. All I know’s he’ll be back in a day or two. Conducting business somewhere, I think.”

Jun had waited too long. Nagase wasn’t there, and if anything, he was out hiring a gun to take him down. Whatever business he was conducting probably wasn’t anything legal. He headed down the steps and back to the path for the long walk back to Aiba’s horse.

“Can I tell Mr. Nagase you called on him?”

He considered this. It would be more suspicious if he left without saying anything. If he was marked already, maybe Nagase would see his visit as some kind of atonement. “Tell him Matsumoto was here.”

The boy nodded, letting him pass unhindered. Any man was free now. He’d avoided the man who probably wished him dead. He could go anywhere. Any god forsaken place, territory, state. The whole country was open. But he remembered his promise, much as he was loathe to keep it. He’d told Sho he’d stay until Mendoza had fully backed down. Maybe he’d get back and all of them would be lying dead in the streets. The thought chilled him to his bones.

His destination again was Rapid Springs, and he was willingly walking through hellfire.

\-------

The church was empty and dark, but Sho preferred it that way. For months now he’d come in at night. Praying for the town to put its trust in him, praying for the strength to do right by the people. It was his closest way to talk to God and ask for guidance, but he’d never before crept in here after nightfall to beg for forgiveness of this nature.

His hands were clasped and shaking as he sat in the last pew in the back, eyes watery as he stared at the cross up near the front. “Take these thoughts away, please, Lord, please.”

He didn’t know what else to do. His mind should have been on Mendoza and the town’s defense and the threat of retaliation. Instead, he was plagued with the man who’d run out on them, stealing a horse and abandoning them without a word. About the man whose scent was still in his other clothes, whose lips and touch Sho couldn’t forget. He knocked his head against his praying hands. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

Even in God’s house, he couldn’t drown it out. All the hints and insinuations Ninomiya had let fall from his lips, the words curling around Sho’s ears and seeping into his mind. Like the snake in the garden, wanting him to taste good and evil, the forbidden knowledge. Was it all lies? Was Ninomiya using Sho’s weakness for Jun intentionally? Or had they…had the two men who couldn’t stand the sight of one another…

He wiped his eyes and his snotty mouth, choking on a sob. “I can’t do this, Lord. Please, grant me the strength,” he whispered. “Please Lord Jesus, please.” The shoddy stained glass window beyond the cross offered no solace. The savior, holding a lamb, cradling it but not giving Sho the answers he wanted so desperately. He unlaced his fingers and placed his hands on the back of the pew in front of him, hauling himself to his feet.

He was pathetic in the sight of the Lord. The only good thing he’d done in days was protect the town, and he’d had to murder to do so. And every other waking moment was plagued with sin. The thought of never seeing Jun again, of never knowing if the man had been genuine or playing Sho like a fiddle. He’d never ever know.

Sho shuffled along, opening the big church door into the cool night. It’d be a full moon before too long. He was just going down the steps when he heard a voice talking quietly but animatedly in the churchyard beyond. He rubbed his clammy hands on his trousers and walked around the side of the church, seeing one of the big grave markers towards the back.

Ninomiya was sitting in the dirt, running his fingers along the smooth tombstone, chatting away. Aiba mentioned that Nino’s fiancée had been buried here – perhaps he was telling her about the town’s good for nothing Yankee sheriff. He should have kept moving, should have taken the long walk back to his own place. But a twig snapped underfoot, and the sharp Ninomiya looked up.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, turning to leave.

“Midnight confession, Sheriff?” That tone in his voice, that know-it-all tone. Ninomiya delighted in making one uncomfortable to the point where you wanted to kill him.

He leaned back against the church building. “I was praying for the town.”

“For the town?” Nino called back, getting to his feet and brushing off the back of his trousers. “You can pray for the town every Sunday with Pastor White and all the other folk. You needed a personal chat with God, Sheriff. You ain’t foolin’ me.”

Sho licked his lips. “I’m tryin’ not to let you rile me up, Ninomiya, on account of you visiting your woman’s grave."

The other man stepped away, came closer. “Visit’s done, Sheriff.” He came up until he was within spitting distance. “You praying for the Lord to tell you what happened ‘tween me and Matsumoto? You praying for a prophet’s wisdom, to see all and know all?”

The sheriff’s fingers balled up tight. “None of my business what you been up to in your free time.”

“Now now now, Sheriff. Now now.” He kept moving closer to Sho, his voice getting lower and more ominous. “You gonna lean against God’s house and tell a bold faced lie? You best head on back inside and pray some more. Pray that I don’t tell you what it feels like to have Jun begging you. Begging to fuck him.”

“You got a forked tongue like the devil himself!” Sho sputtered, launching himself at Nino. His fist connected with the other man’s face, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Nino got to his hands and knees, laughing like a man gone crazy. The sheriff watched him take a dirty finger to the side of his mouth where Sho had split his lip, taking the blood and licking his finger. “You wanna know what it sounds like Sheriff? Sounds so low, so low. From way deep in his throat. ‘Please, Sho. Please, won’t you do it for me, please?’”

Sho kicked the man this time, barely controlling his rage. Pastor White was gone with the women and children and his house was the closest. Wasn’t going to wake up no one if he beat the daylights out of Ninomiya. “You shut your fucking mouth. Shut it!”

The other man was on his back, still laughing. “You think I didn’t hear you in there praying, Sheriff?” He spat out a mouthful of blood. “You think I didn’t hear you crying for Jesus to save you? ‘Jesus, help me…I want to lie with another man, Jesus, oh won’t you come help me? Won’t you forgive me?’”

His boot connected with Ninomiya’s ribs, making the man wheeze as he cackled. “Stop it!” Sho could barely see with the tears in his eyes and the fury bubbling within him. “Stop it!”

Nino was able to dodge the next one since Sho swung wide, and his leg ached. He stumbled back, pulling at his hair to keep from screaming. Why had God cursed him? Why was the Lord spitting at him, using this wretched man to taunt him? His back hit the church again, and he cried out wordlessly. Flashes in his mind. Of Jun’s hands, Jun’s tongue, Jun’s teeth. The way Jun moaned when their mouths had come together.

“Stop it!” he shouted, even though Nino hadn’t said anything this time. He shut his eyes tight, pounding his fists behind him against the church wall, hard enough that his hands would be purple come daylight.

He felt hands at his ankles. Ninomiya had crawled over, still laughing as he pulled himself up onto his knees. Sho tried shoving him back, but his strength and willpower was drained as the hitching sobs refused to dissipate. “Sheriff…”

“Don’t say no more.” Nino’s dirty, bloody hands were inching up his pant leg. “Don’t make me think of him. Just don’t make me think of him.”

He gasped as Nino yanked at his belt out of nowhere. There were no words as he watched the saloon owner make himself comfortable on his knees before him, hands perfectly steady as he undid the buckle and reached for the clasps that held his trousers closed. “You want to know, don’t you?” the other man teased. “Want to know what he’d do for you?”

“No,” he mumbled. “No, don’t…” He kept his eyes squeezed shut, the air disappearing from his lungs as the other man grabbed hold of him roughly. “What do you think you’re…”

“Shoulda heard the way he begged me. ‘Oh Sheriff. Sheriff, right there. I want you right there.’”

Sho felt like his legs were going to collapse under him as Ninomiya’s voice disappeared and his warm mouth closed around him. “No. Don’t please…” The weight of his sin was heavy, but the sensation between his legs was unfamiliar. Sho dug his fingers into the wall, unable to find anything to cling to as he cried out.

He knew Ninomiya was still bleeding from before and hurt bad, but there was no way to tell as he bobbed his head, taking Sho into his mouth over and over again, running his tongue up and down the length of him. “Stop, you gotta stop.”

His breathing was shallow, gulpfuls of air every few seconds as he kept his eyes shut and rode out the incredible sensations shuddering through his body. He remembered Jun’s hands on his vest, the way the man had roughly pulled him close in the darkened living room of Aiba’s house. “Oh, sweet Jesus.”

Ninomiya was touching his tongue to the very tip of him. “Don’t be calling for Jesus now. Call for him. Call for Jun, Sheriff. Let him know how you’re doing tonight.”

“Shut up shut up shut up,” he cried as the other man quickened his pace, taking him deeper in his throat. Sho remembered Jun’s hot mouth, and the man before him seemed to disappear and the gunman took his place. Sho gasped again. “No…no, Jun you can’t…oh fuck…”

“Say it.”

He put his fingers in the man’s hair, and he pretended it was longer. “Jun, please.”

“Say it.”

His knees were knocking together something awful. His mind was whirring, and he was going to come. Jun was giving him the best feeling of his whole damn life. It was Jun. It was Jun’s mouth. It was Jun. “Oh god, Jun…Jun I’m going to…please I…”

He felt the night air suddenly as Ninomiya backed away, crawling back in the dirt. “What’s that, Sheriff?”

He opened his eyes, aching at the loss of warmth and he nearly fainted. He tasted salt in his mouth. He’d been so close, and he could already feel himself spilling a little onto his pants. “You…why did you…”

“Why did I stop?” Ninomiya laughed. “You want to know why I stopped?” The man got to his feet, moving close enough that Sho could smell himself on the other man’s breath. He had to finish, he had to. This was cruel. Ninomiya pressed his hands to either side of Sho’s head, leaning forward to run his tongue along the sheriff’s earlobe. “Beg me to go back.”

He took himself in his own hand, eyes leaking and heart palpitating. “Just leave me, leave me alone.”

“Call me by his name again. Beg for it.”

His hand was sticky now as he tried to bring himself over the edge. “I won’t, I won’t do it.”

Ninomiya’s teeth bit down on his ear. “Come on. Tell Jun what you want.”

“No no no…”

The other man’s hands were roaming under his shirt, pinching his skin. And all he could think about were Matsumoto’s hands, his mouth. “Tell Jun. Go on, tell him.”

The sensations were overwhelming him, and it was like a shotgun blast right next to him as he finally came, messing up his pant leg and his hand. “Jun,” he whispered bitterly. “Jun, please…oh god, Jun.”

He slunk down the wall until he was sitting in the dirt, shaking uncontrollably. No amount of praying would ever erase this night. He knocked his head back against the church wall. “Damn you. God damn you.”

When he finally opened his eyes, he was in the churchyard. Completely alone.

\-------

When the roan's hooves stopped just short of Aiba's forge, there was black smoke billowing from the fire inside. Jun stopped and dismounted, wrapping the reins around the hitching post just out front- there was a tightening in his belly, and he didn't know if it was good or bad that the deputy was back from Clearwater. His boots sank into the sandy soil as he approached the shop.

Aiba was banging on a stagecoach axle when Jun approached. He turned, wiping soot and sweat from his brow, and he was smiling; that was something, at least. Least the man wasn't fixin' to have Jun's head for stealing his mare.

"Morning, Matsumoto," he said, cheerfully, turning back to the red hot metal. "Was wonderin' when you were gonna stumble back into town."

"Ain't stumbling," Jun mumbled, taking his hat off and sitting down on the stacked cratest nearest him. "Limpin', more like."

"Well, at least you can still walk," Aiba told him, and he gave him an unreadable stare; sometimes Jun felt the deputy knew far more than he was willing to let on, others that the man couldn't be more oblivious. It was an odd line to toe, but Aiba was an oddity, specially 'round those parts. How he kept his disposition was a mystery Jun had not yet been able to solve.

He twirled his hat 'round his fingers a few times, lightly brushing across the bullet hole through the brim.

"Have you- talked to the sheriff?" he asked, after a long few minutes of silence between them with only Aiba's hammer pangs echoing through the building.

"Not really," Aiba said. He stuck the tongs holding the mechanical part back into the embers, twirling it until the metal turned red and bright. "Least not about you. Something happen?"

Jun kicked at pebbles, watching them skip across the dirt. "No. Just wondering."

"Think he came here trying to find you after you left."

There it was- the twisting in Jun's chest. He swallowed down the lump, and felt it move through his form. It was painful; throbbing, a little, in one of those long, hard aching type ways. Like his dreams of blood splattered across lacy petticoats were.

"He did?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as even as possible.

"Heard from Ninomiya," Aiba replied. Jun's blood went cold- he'd spent hours trying to erase the memories of Nino's fingers curled around his length, and so far he hadn't managed to do anything but relive it several hundred times. He stared down at the dirt floor and tried to stifle the red starting up at the edges of his vision. Course the sheriff had been there with Nino- the saloon owner was everywhere, saw everything. There wasn't a damn opportunity that man would pass up if it meant further adding to the burden of guilt hanging on Jun's shoulders.

"He sound mad?" he mumbled, head in his hands. He hoped the blacksmith heard the words anyway.

"Dunno," came the answer. "But why don't you ask him yourself?"

Jun's head snapped up. "What?"

Aiba pointed, twisting his torso, finger leading out towards the dusty road where the sun was beating down against the dirt and sand.

"Comin' up here now. Guess you'll get your chance."

He had half a mind to run straight out in the other direction- maybe he could come up with some excuse, maybe not. Didn't even matter, he just desperately didn't want to be there. Sheriff Sakurai's boots slowed as his gaze swept over Jun's seated form. There was a hesitation there, and it spoke volumes; Jun had been stupid to come back. He'd been stupid to think there was anything there, and even dumber to think that the waters would wash away the memories of Nino's hands on him and the rhythm pull of his palms.

Jun sucked in a shaky breath, steeling himself.

"Morning, sheriff," Aiba called, when Sho got within range of the structure. Sho gave him a half-hearted hat tip and stopped near the far wall, as if he couldn't bring himself to go any further.

"Morning," he replied. A pause, and then he shuffled his feet. "Matsumoto."

"Sheriff," Jun responded in kind. There was another long period of quiet, and finally, Aiba seemed to notice something was wrong. His hammer stopped it's banging, and he gave Jun a purfunctory glance, then Sho. He didn't say anything- that was the nice thing about Aiba, he rarely stuck his nose in other people's business, but he did cease his work. It added to the collectively growing silence.

"You back, then?" Sho asked.

"I made a promise, didn't I?" Jun fired back, but it lacked bite, and it was obvious. He probably sounded ridiculous clinging to his oath in such a way. "Ain't done yet, not for sure."

He caught Sho's eye, but it was only for a moment, and then the sheriff ducked his head again, breaking the contact. The tightness in Jun's belly increased tenfold; the man was embarrassed, ready to bolt. Jun had spooked him so bad he could barely stand to be in the same room. The realization was just another knot clogging his throat that he had to choke down.

"I'll be off," he mumbled, throwing his hat back on his head. He just needed to get out, get away from the overbearing tension. He didn't even know where to go; Aiba's place was his one refuge in Rapid Springs. He settled on Ohno's- at least that way he was out of the sun. He got to his feet and dusted his palms off on his trousers.

Neither sheriff nor deputy stopped him.

\--

If anything, Jun wanted to avoid Ninomiya more than he wanted to avoid the honorable sheriff, and from the looks of things, the saloon owner hadn't left his establishment all day. It was a surprising respite, giving Jun some time to think about what his next move was. He wanted to bury his fist in Nino's face, but he was still the outsider, and rash actions like that would get him kicked out even faster than the awkwardness would.

He did some odd jobs around Rapid Springs during the day to help clean up the mess Mendoza's gang had left- with Johnson six feet under, his windmill still needed repair before his widow and boys got back, so they'd fixed that up as an act of charity and remorse. Doc's place was still being put back together from the bullet that had nearly taken off half the stoop. And until the cart of glass came in, the windows in all the buildings were still broken. Rapid Springs might have won the battle, but she still looked like the loser in the brawl.

As the sun went down, Jun sat by the creekbed, back against the gnarled old tree just past the sloping dirt. He didn't much fancy going back to the blacksmith's yet, and the saloon was right out- so he let his boots sink into the sandy dirt by the dried bed and sighed. He just wanted to stay relatively out of sight.

Boards creaked up behind his position- the sheriff's station porch.

He didn't turn around. His breath had already caught in his throat, and just sitting there he felt like a thousand bullets were bearing down on him. The creaking didn't continue; a signal that the figure had stopped moving. Staring down at him, probably.

All it did was conjure up the memories of the night spent sleepless in Aiba's bed again, sticky residue of Nino's ministrations a far cry better than the turmoil that had plagued Jun's thoughts.

Then the creaking resumed, and the door opened and shut again with a snap, and Jun let out the breath he'd been holding. He glared down at the dust covering the toe of his boots like it was at fault for the mess he'd gotten himself into.

Furious with everything- but mostly himself- he pushed himself back to his feet. Maybe he could sneak into Aiba's place without having to talk to the other man; he had nothing against him, but his head was throbbing from guilt and shame, and the last thing Jun wanted to do was hold a conversation.

Luck was running against him. Sheriff Sakurai came out of his station just as Jun was passing by, dust flying up behind his heels.

"Why did you leave?" the sheriff called, and Jun stopped, cursing. His mind was telling him to go- ignore him, just go, just deal with the residual self-loathing on your own, but his feet didn't obey. He stopped.

"Well?" came the call when Jun didn't answer. He was almost passed the station- a few more feet, maybe, and he didn't know if Sho would follow him. Jun squeezed his eyes shut, fighing down the rising nausea.

"Ain't no reason," Jun replied. His tongue felt thick. "Had some business to attend to."

The half-truth tasted more bitter than a lie would have. He heard Sho's boots against the porch behind him.

"You just take off, without warning- you're s'posed to be brave, aren't you?" The sheriff sounded angry, but there was something else there- something raw that Jun couldn't identify. "You can't just leave when there's something you don't wanna face."

Jun barked out a laugh. "Can't I?"

"You just keep runnin' hoping that you'll be faster than what follows you," Sho hissed.

"What of it?" Jun asked, whirling. The blow to his pride was a stronger motivation than the shame he knew had to be pinking his cheeks. "You think you know me? You think my life has been like yours? You know nothing, _sheriff_."

He spat the title like it was a curse, and it worked. Sho reeled a bit, stricken.

"I came back cause I made you a promise, and I owe this town a debt," Jun continued. "And it has nothing to do with you."

"Do you know what you did?" Sho cried, and took several long strides to stand in front of Jun, looking like a cat in a thunderstorm, all alight and trembling and bristling at the same time. "Do you know what you did?"

Course he did. And it tasted like damnation that Jun swallowed back. But the sheriff was loosed, hollering like the devil, and suddenly it didn't seem like he was yelling at Jun anymore- seemed more like he was waging a war inside, where the gunslinger couldn't go.

"Do you know what you did?!" the sheriff repeated, and then his face started to crumple. 'Do you know what I did?"

The tension changed so fast Jun didn't have much time to catch up with it, and Sho sank down to his knees in the dirt, hands over his face. Suddenly, he didn't look like a high and mighty federal appointee who would wrestle for control over his jurisdiction- he looked like a lost kid who'd just killed his first game and was watching the blood pool on the ground by his own hand. His whole body was shaking.

"Do you know what I did?" he kept repeating, over and over until the words all blurred together with the tears Jun could hear in his tone, even if they were hidden behind his fingers.

"Sheriff," Jun said, and knelt down, putting his hands on the man's trembling shoulders. When he wasn't immediately pushed away, he let his fingers curl tighter.

"Oh God," Sho whispered.

"Sheriff," Jun tried again, and then breathed, " _Sho_."

They were in the street, still- the sun was falling and almost disappeared, but they weren't hidden from sight, and Jun didn't think the rest of Rapid Springs needed to see the sheriff in such a state. He hauled Sho to his feet, rougher than he would have liked just to make it quicker, and encountered little resistance. With a quick look to his left, checking for prying eyes, Jun practically pulled the sheriff into his station and back into the bedroom.

Sho just sat on the edge of the mattress, head still buried in his hands.

"What happened?" Jun asked, when the door was shut.

"Oh, God," Sho said, tone warbling. "God damn it. God damn him."

He was shaking again, like a leaf, and Jun sat down next to him so their shoulders were touching.

"God damn who?" he asked, even though he was relatively certain that he already knew. He couldn't tell if his own doubt was lessening or doubling- maybe it was his fault, in a roundabout way. Maybe his hasty departure had opened up the door. "Was- was it Ninomiya?"

"Oh, God." Seemed an affirmative, especially given the way the sheriff's body shook harder. It hurt all over, like he'd been punched in the gut and someone had stolen all of his air. Jun leaned in without thinking to lace his fingers with Sho's and tangle his other hand in the sheriff's hair, pulling him close. Wasn't nothing he could do that would take away the anguish; nothing he could do to shift the blame or make the wound close faster. He sighed against Sho's hair and buried his face in the strands.

"Sheriff," Jun whispered. "S'alright."

"No," Sho mumbled against his palms. "Ain't never gonna be alright."

"He played both of us," Jun told him, tightening his grip on the sheriff's fingers. "You hear me? He got us both, bad."

Either he was getting through, or the onslaught of guilt had tapered off; Sho's shoulders stopped shaking so bad.

"Sho," Jun breathed again, and pulled the man's hands away from his face.

"No," the sheriff whispered, but even as he said it he was leaning in- his lips tasted like salt, like the remnants of tears. It was heady being on his bed, alone, wrapped in the clean scent of soap once more, but Jun let the gesture stay as a chaste kiss. Pushin' the man would do far more harm than good, no matter how intoxicating the situation was. It was hard to pull back and break contact, but Jun did it, one hand firmly around the sheriff's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said, honestly.

"Don't really think it's your fault," Sho mumbled. "Not all of it, anyway."

"Maybe not," Jun acquiesced, rising to his feet. "But I'll shoulder it anyway."

Sho didn't seem to have a response for that, and he allowed himself to be pushed back against the pillow. Jun felt a swell of hatred for the saloon owner- how far would Nino go to make sure everyone was as damn miserable as him? How far did this push and pull have to continue? It was like watching bullets fly and hit the bystanders of a gunfight; the more the tumbleweed of blame rolled, the quicker its speed and the more bodies got hit by its brambles.

The sheriff was warm when Jun curled up behind him on the bed.

"You gonna run again?" Sho asked.

"Naw," Jun replied. "Maybe I'll stick around this time."

The other man laughed mirthlessly. "You're standing in quicksand here."

"Maybe," Jun sighed. And Sho still didn't push him away, or demand he leave. Jun let his face rest near the nape of the sheriff's neck, breathing in the scent of him- all ambition and bright ideals and naivete slowly draining like a dying man's life onto the dirt. Maybe if he pressed hard enough, he could staunch the flow.

Maybe he didn't have to let Sho bleed out alone.

With the sheriff's even, heavy breathing lulling him, Jun slept.

\------

He took a swig of whiskey, sloshing it around in his mouth until he could feel the liquid between each tooth, letting it coat his tongue. Nino leaned forward, spitting over the porch rail. Even now, his mind was reminding him of the things he’d done the past few days out of anger and hate and the desire to see the town free of men he despised. But no amount of alcohol was going to cleanse his palate.

Because it seemed that despite his best efforts, his best machinations, the sheriff and Matsumoto weren’t going to run away. Jun had gone for a couple days, probably stewing and broody as he seemed wont to do, but no amount of yanking on his guilt or on his person had worked. He’d come back to Rapid Springs with his tail between his legs, and as far as Ninomiya knew, he’d spent the night at the sheriff’s place the day before.

Playing to Jun’s guilt or Sho’s faith or the two men’s strange infatuation with one another hadn’t sent them packing. They’d reconciled, Nino was sure of it, and he took another swig of his whiskey before dropping the cup on the wooden porch and letting it roll off into the dirt. He spat heavily on the planks before heading back inside. Appealing to the men’s baser natures had only stunned them briefly. He’d have to take another tack. If he felt like taking another tack.

He could move on. Leave his shitty saloon and the black-toothed whores and just set up shop somewhere else. Start over instead of rolling in the pig slop his life had turned into since she’d gone away. But it had taken every bit of him to leave St. Louis in the first place, cast away the comforts of home and family to make his way on his own. To do all that over would just end in disappointment again, wouldn’t it? And Rapid Springs was the home of the closest thing he had to a friend in the world. Running a saloon in San Francisco or back in El Paso would still be running a saloon, but there’d be no fresh baked bread waiting for him every other morning. No pats on the back or quiet words of encouragement. He’d lose that.  
   
It had been a quiet day, he thought as he entered his room and shut the door, kicking off his boots. Around midday, Aiba had apparently gone back to Clearwater to bring Pastor White, the women and the children back to town since it had been a week already since Mendoza had attacked. Sakurai had been against it, saying there was no way of knowing whether the Sandburgs had drunk their fill of Rapid Springs’ misery yet. But the other men had been clamoring for their womenfolk, and the sheriff had had to allow it.

For his part, Nino had stayed inside his business all day, going through bottle after bottle. He chuckled as he had his shirt only half unbuttoned before flopping down on his mattress. The booze could numb him, but he was too accustomed to its taste to forget everything. “Fuck it all,” he mumbled, putting his hand over his eyes to block out the faint candle light in his bedroom.

The shocked faces Jun and Sho had made when he’d visited them in turn weren’t bringing him the satisfaction they had days earlier, knowing they were probably off licking their wounds or one another by now. He poked at his belt buckle, drunkenly fumbling with it. Nobody was coming to guilt him tonight. His sheets would only bear his own weight and sweat. He wasn’t drunk enough to mess with his own girls.

Maybe he could conjure her face in his mind’s eye, magic her soft lips and straw-colored hair. With each passing month she faded more and more until he was finding release based solely on what he thought she’d always looked like. He tugged at his trousers, legs getting caught, and he tried to think. The whiskey was rocking back and forth in his brain like a boat at sea, and he couldn’t concentrate.

“Come on,” he mumbled, running his hand along his length, trying to find his normal rhythm. “Come on, come on.” But he couldn’t conjure the curls and the gentle swell of her hips. All he saw was Jun, stunned. Sho, begging. The both of them, coerced into calling another man’s name by Nino’s insistence. Nobody called for him. He gave up, kicking the rail at the foot of his bed in frustration.

He tugged the covers up and over his half naked form, hoping he could sleep away the night. But soon enough there was hollering in the street, from the sound of it, Thompson. Pulling himself up out of bed, he trudged to the window and was going to lean out to cuss at the other man, but when he pushed the curtains aside he didn’t know how he hadn’t noticed.

The one part of his heart, the tiny sliver that hadn’t yet turned black as pitch, ached. Orange and yellow and heat, and it was rising up with smoke from the dry goods store across the way. “No,” he muttered. “No, no it can’t be…"  
   
He saw horses, men seated atop whooping and shouting as they tossed one last flaming torch through the front window of Ohno’s shop. Nino grabbed for his discarded pants, not bothering with shoes as he ran from his room. Mendoza was back. Mendoza was feeling far less than charitable, and he was hitting the town where it would hurt the most – the food supply. Ohno’s shop was the only place in five miles that regularly stocked the necessities.

Nino’s bare feet carried him out the swinging saloon doors and into the dirty street where Mendoza’s boys had already ridden off. He could only stand there, stock still in horror and disbelief. He hadn’t seen him all day. He’d been doing an inventory, hadn’t he? Was that what he’d said he was doing today? Why couldn’t he remember? Thompson was already running over with a bucket, and soon enough all the men along the street were running for the well.

Stumbling forward, the smoke clouding his eyes, he tried to make his way to the store front. “Satoshi!” he cried. “Satoshi, get out! Get out of there, you lazy sack of shit!”

He heard a shout. “Ninomiya, get back!” It was the sheriff, wearing pajamas that Nino would have mercilessly teased him for if he was at any other point in his life. “Watch out, I know he’s got gunpowder in there and if the flames get it…”

There was a horrific bang at the rear of the shop, sending all the men in the street diving for cover. He found himself on the ground, Matsumoto half-wrapped around him. He kicked at the other man. “You don’t get it, damn it! He’s a heavy sleeper, I have to get him out!” Nino screamed as Matsumoto struggled to keep a hold on him. “Satoshi!”

“Jun, get him back!” Sho was hollering, trying to coordinate the men with the water buckets.

He tried to bite at Jun, screaming until his voice was hoarse from it. “Let me go! We have to get him out!”

Matsumoto kept dragging him back towards the saloon and away from the burning building. “Don’t be stupid. If he didn’t get out when they threw the torch in, then he ain’t coming out. We gotta put the fire out, now help, alright?”

“Get the fuck off of me!” he shouted. “Satoshi! God damn it, Satoshi…”

Jun was pulling him under his arms, and he felt another set of hands taking him by his feet. He tried to kick, but the other man was holding him tight. He looked up to see Sho giving Jun a serious look. He struggled again. “Let go of me, you sonsabitches, let go! Satoshi needs help!”

“We’re putting him in the cell,” Sho was telling Jun, and the two of them were dragging him away from the fire, away from where Ohno was, and he was never going to be able to shout again, much less speak. Why weren’t they trying to save his friend? Why didn’t anyone go around back to where the baker had his bedroom?

They hauled him into the sheriff’s station and into the cell. “Wanna cuff him?” Jun asked darkly, and Nino hollered right in his face.

“Shut up, would ya?” Sho was saying, trying to get him laid down on the bed.

“I’m gonna kill Mendoza!” he heard someone vow, only realizing seconds later that it was his own voice, hoarse and low from the smoke and shouting. Sho and Jun exchanged a look. Nino tried to sit up, but Jun held him down. “Let me out of here, you motherfuckers! Let me out! I’m riding for Mendoza’s god forsaken cave right now! Let me go!”

Sho wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We need to go help. Do it.”

Nino heard Jun’s muttered apology before his fist knocked him unconscious.


	7. Chapter 7

By the time the last embers of the damn fire had finally stopped glowing red in the darkness, Sho's shoulders were screaming in misery. His entire body felt like he'd been trampled by a stampede; the adrenaline was finally abating, and the repercussions of their frenzied activity was taking hold, making every muscle throb in exhaustion. His head hurt something awful, and there were spots at the edges of his vision as he glared down at the ruined debris that used to be the dry goods store.

He hadn't seen it coming- dammit, he hadn't seen it coming. And he'd been so wrapped up in Nino's underhanded manipulations and Jun's return and the ridiculous tension between them that he hadn't thought about Mendoza coming back with a swift kick where it hurt the most. They were supply-less, perched on the edge of an expanse of desert, and their deputy was due back in days with the womenfolk. Shit- he couldn't figure his next move, 'specially not staring down at the ash-strewn building they'd spent hours trying to save.

'Cross the debris, Thompson was kicking at the remains with the toe of his boot, and then there was a hand on Sho's shoulder, fingers curling 'round and squeezing.

"Nothing more we can do, sheriff." Didn't matter that Jun was voicing the same thing screaming through Sho's head- still hurt to hear. Still made his blood boil and bubble in rage that Mendoza had struck so low, so dirty. He could still hear Ninomiya's screams in his ear, like the man was still standing next to him, hands balled and throat hoarse. Dammit all. He hadn't wanted to lose any more of Rapid Springs' men to the Sandburg Boys, least of all not one he'd been friendly with.

The hand on his shoulder moved up to the back of his neck, tangling in the grimy hair there- every part of him was covered in soot, ash, and sweat. He leaned back unconsciously into the touch; with Jun, every bit of pressure from his fingertips was deliberate. Sho ignored the rapid increase of his heart in his chest.

"Yeah," was all he managed to choke out. "I know."

Jun started leading him away, pressure on his back in the direction opposite the ruined structure- back towards the sheriff's station. It almost felt like desertion leaving the scene, and it didn't matter that there was nothing left; Sho had been put in charge of keeping Rapid Springs safe, and he'd failed her just when she needed him the most. It clogged his throat, choking him like the overbearing summer heat.

"Wait," he mumbled, half-stumbling over part of the roof that had fallen free and landed on the main drag.

"Nothing more to do here," Jun repeated, and the pressure on Sho's shoulders increased just a bit- even if he hadn't been exhausted, he probably wouldn't have fought against it. He let the gunslinger lead him back towards the station, swallowing down rising bile of shame and defeat. Ohno deserved at least a Christian burial, and all they could give him was the smoldering ashes of the bakery he'd so loved. Didn't seem right- didn't seem right at all, and it clouded all of Sho's already muddled thoughts.

"Should've done something," he murmured, as he stepped back in through the station's front door.

"What?" Jun asked.

"Don't know," Sho replied. "Just- something."

Ninomiya was still out cold, silent in the cell, body draped across the mattress like a limp doll. Seeing his prostrate form only made the lump in Sho's throat swell further, but at least they moved past the bars without stopping. Jun pushed him gently into the bedroom.

"Ain't no use worrying 'bout it tonight," he said, as Sho collapsed onto the bed and let his head fall in his hands. He could still see the flames, brighter than the moon in the sky. He didn't think the image would ever go away; it was burned into his vision. He couldn't stop imagining Ohno trapped within the crumbling walls, smoke everywhere, so thick it burned like the fire itself.

Jun turned, hand finally falling away from Sho's shoulder, making to leave- and Sho reached out to grab the other man's arm without really thinking. It could have been any of them, could have been any building Mendoza chose to gut. Sho's fingers closed unconsciously 'round Matsumoto's wrist, tight- like if he held on, he could stave off the thoughts churning through his head.

"Jun-" it was all he could get out around his swollen tongue. The other man stopped and turned back, and when he sat down on the side of the mattress beside Sho, they were so close Sho could feel Jun's breath on his face. There was a very, very long moment when Sho forgot to breathe- but not to think. His thoughts were whirling so fast he couldn't pick out a single one, couldn't make sense of the haze. It could have been any of them, Mendoza was still out there, Rapid Springs was still targeted, Jun was sitting so close, so warm, the tightening in his stomach, Nino's hands working their way up his pant leg-

Sho gasped, wrenching his gaze away from Jun's to stare at his soot-covered hands in his lap.

"I'm sorry," he breathed.

Jun sighed a little, letting his forehead fall against Sho's temple, one hand grasping Sho's shoulder. His fingers dug a little deep- a little needy, like he wanted more than Sho could give him.

"Don't be," he said.

"I don't-" and he didn't, didn't even know what he wanted to say, how to vocalize it.

"You don't have to," was the response, murmured against the collar of his pajama shirt.

Sho sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Mendoza," he said, finding more comfortable ground. "He might still be out there. Maybe he's figurin' to hit us again while we're down."

"Then I'll keep watch."

The lump was back again, painful to swallow around. "But- I'm-"

"Exhausted," Jun said, in a tone that left no room for argument. "And going to sleep."

Sho was pushed back against the pillow, and he squeezed his eyes shut- if he just tried hard enough, maybe he could turn his brain off.

"Should be me," he mumbled, and warm fingers brushed hair away from his forehead, lingering slightly against his temples. The fingertips left, and he reached, grabbing to tangle his own hand in them. "Should be me."

There was a chaste kiss against his knuckles. "Will be. Later."

Exhaustion was a powerful motivator. He was asleep before Jun's footsteps even left the bedroom.

\-----

He did what he could, but there really wasn't much left- Thompson had cleaned up what could be cleaned from the street, and the rest was going to have to wait until morning no matter what. All the swinging lanterns in town wouldn't be enough light to properly sift through the debris of the dry goods store and find what was salvageable. Jun didn't think much was, but they needed to hold onto whatever optimism they could at that point. He patted Thompson on the shoulder and told him to go back home, and spent a few minutes staring across the ruined building like he could bring it back with just his thoughts.

By the time he got back into the station, Ninomiya was stirring in the cell. Jun wasn't entirely sure what made him pause outside the bars- part of him wanting so badly just to kick the saloon owner's ass into the next province for what he'd pulled. Maybe he would. Maybe is what he told himself as his fingers gripped the iron tightly, watching the man come to with a groan of pain.

It took a moment, but Nino's eyes swept across Jun's position outside the cell as he put a hand to his head.

"Sonofa bitch," the other man hissed.

"Lookin' at one," Jun shot back. His knuckles were white from the tension in his grip.

"Let me out," Nino demanded, shakily rising from the bed. He was unsteady on his feet- still woozy. Jun had hit him hard, and he didn't entirely regret it. "I'm going after that fucker right now."

"Like hell you are," Jun laughed. "You gonna do it from in here?"

"Fuck you," Nino seethed, launching himself at the bars directly across from Jun's face. It was loud, and his hands hit the iron with a bang, and Jun glanced over at the door- sheriff was sleeping, and he didn't want to wake him up. Not for this- not for a spitting match between the two of them.

When he turned his gaze back to the cell, Nino was livid, inches away from him. "Let me out."

"You think I'm gonna do anything for you?" Jun snapped, trying to keep his tone low enough that it wouldn't travel 'cross the bedroom threshold. "You ain't in a position to make demands, Ninomiya. You had your fun, and it's over."

Nino let out a bark of a laugh. With his head thrown back, he looked eerily like a coyote loose on the dunes.

"Fun?" he repeated. "You think that was fun?"

"I don't know what it was to you," Jun said. "But you crossed the line."

"You two don't know where the line is," Nino hissed, leaning in closer. Their noses were almost touching through the bars, and Jun wasn't entirely sure what was keeping him from clocking the other man again. He kept his fingers where they were, curled around the iron separating them.

There was a moment of silence, so pronounced Jun swore he could taste the animosity bubbling between them.

"Want me to do it again, do you?" the saloon owner laughed. "Want my hand on your cock again?"

Jun reached in, grabbing Nino's collar and hauling him roughly against the bars. His forehead hit the iron, and it didn't stop his laughter. Jun's muscles were shaking from restrained rage.

"Shut the fuck up," he spat. "You're done here."

"He was my best friend," Nino cried- not loud enough, hopefully, to wake the sleeping figure in the next room. "He was my best friend and I'm gonna kill the sonofa bitch who did this. Let me out, and I'm out of your hair."

Jun let go abruptly, and Ninomiya reeled back somewhat, tripping a bit and losing his handle on the bars. Jun's heart was pounding in his chest- but the image of Ohno's slow, gentle smile was stuck in the forefront of his mind's eye. The man hadn't deserved what happened, 'specially not the way it went down. Jun could admit that, and he knew the two had been close. Wasn't fair, but life seldom was.

"You fixin' to die?" he asked.

"What's it to you?" came the waspish reply.

"Your death won't mean nothing," Jun said, shaking his head. "Won't bring him back."

Nino kicked at the bars, and the sound rang through the room. His eyes were red-rimmed, bloodshot- half-crazed in the moonlight streaming in through the small, barred window on the far wall. It was more than Jun had seen from the man since he's screamed himself hoarse while firing his gun into the blacksmith's shop. Maybe that was why Jun's chest tightened a bit.

"Does it matter?" he spat. "Your death won't bring her back, either."

The words felt like a kick to the gut, and Jun struggled to keep his breathing in check.

"Well?" Nino demanded, against the bars once again. "It's true, ain't it? And you still wanna die anyway."

Jun met his gaze, glowering, wholly unable to refute the statement. After a long moment, he stepped in once more.

"That's it, then?" he asked, quieter. "You just gonna run out like a madman on a hunt?"

"Let me out," Nino growled. "Let me out and I'm gone."

Another pause, and then Jun reached for the keys hanging on a nail just inside the front door, between two boards in the wall. He didn't know exactly why his hands were moving of their own accord, but he didn't question it- his gut was telling him to do it, and he was apt to listen to that, at least. He unhooked the door, glancing up at the saloon owner again as he pulled the bars open.

"Go," he said. Even to his own ears, his tone sounded weary. "Go, then, and get on with it."

Nino glared at him, and then brushed past his shoulder without another word. Jun stood for a long time outside the empty cell, trying to figure out what was going on in his own head.

\-----

_“So when are your builders coming out?”_

_He was startled by the voice behind him. Nino turned on the heel of his boot to see the man from across the way, Ohno. It had only been a week or so since he’d arrived. A week of camping out on the floor of the pastor’s living room. But soon enough, he’d have a fine saloon._

_“They’ll be here within the next few days. Guess they’re coming from Santa Fe.”_

_Ohno nodded, squinting in the sunlight to the empty ground across from his store. “And your lady friend?”_

_He laughed, wiping some sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “Oh, she won’t be here until it’s done. I don’t think she’s so willing to rough it out here.”_

_“Smart girl.”_

_It had cost him his entire savings, plus the money he’d gotten from the sale of his parents’ home in St. Louis. Pneumonia had taken them both last winter, and he hadn’t felt like sticking around with those bad memories. She’d gotten him through so much – he owed it to her to build them a fine home and business._

_He continued to look at the empty patch of land, imagining a fine inn with himself behind the bar and his girl in the kitchen. He could already imagine their children running around, knocking things over and a saloon full of happy customers. It was going to be a fine life, and he couldn’t wait to get started._

_Ohno set a hand down on his shoulder. “Why don’t you come out of the heat? I’ve got some bread baking. I want you to tell me about this girl, and don’t spare any details. We don’t have too many pretty ones out here.”_

_Nino laughed, accepting the invitation gladly. If all the people in Rapid Springs were as kind as Satoshi Ohno, then she was going to love it._

His head was ready to pop off it hurt so much as he made his way to Aiba’s. If Matsumoto could abscond with a horse to go off on some angsty quest, then Nino could surely borrow himself one too. The deputy would be home sooner or later. The horse could find its way back. Maybe.

He saddled up, fumbling in the darkened stable for supplies. He’d already managed to grab his shotgun from the saloon without waking the girls. It had taken every bit of concentration to not go digging through the charred remains of the bakery, knowing that someone would hear him. And he couldn’t bear it if he found…

Nino shook his head, mounting the horse quickly. It was almost a day’s ride to the encampment outside of the town where Mendoza and the boys held court. They were usually scattered over a few hundred miles, but this camp was where Sandburg and the others stored their loot. If Mendoza was anywhere, he’d be at this place. The man who claimed Aztec lineage still slept in a tent like a common thief hiding from the law.

He still ached from Jun’s knock out blow, but they’d reached enough of an understanding that he was free and running now. The sheriff was going to be none too pleased but a trip to Mendoza’s hideout was a one way trip. He wouldn’t be troubling Rapid Springs no more, he was pretty damn sure about that.

The shotgun bounced against his back as he rode north out of town. He’d avenge what they did to Ohno. He hadn’t been able to kill Jun for what happened to his girl, but he’d be damned if he let Mendoza get away with this. All the weeks they’d gotten along, had a tenuous understanding, and the man had given Nino nothing but grief – all over a fucking card game.

He gave the horse a kick, tightening his grip on the reins. “Hurry up.”

_The temptation to just smash his head against the new, smooth gravestone was hard to ignore. He traced her name with his finger, surprised someone in town had managed to do a decent enough job chipping it into the stone._

_It had already been a week, and try as he had to drink himself to death, he hadn’t manage to follow her into the grave. No, he had to stay alive. He had to stay in this shitty town and eke out a lonely existence because apparently it just wasn’t his time to die. No matter how many times he’d put the shotgun in his mouth the past few days, he’d been too much of a coward to go ahead and pull._

_He tensed at the hand on his shoulder but relaxed upon realizing it was just Ohno. “You still out here?”_

_“Yep,” he said, wiping his eyes a bit and patting the top of the grave marker. “Yep, still out here.”_

_The other man was silent as usual and stood behind him for the better part of an hour while he stared at her name, the birth date. The death date. Nino didn’t budge, and neither did Ohno. Finally, the sun was beating down on him too hard to bear any longer. His scalp was burnt and any bit of exposed skin would be red and puckered before too long._

_“Should have let her rest under a tree,” Nino remarked, and Ohno helped him to his feet without being asked. He seemed to know when Nino was ready to head back to the saloon for the day._

_“Think it’s better in the sunlight,” Ohno replied quietly, holding him around the shoulder as they left the churchyard. “Just the way you talked about her. Think she should stay in the sun.”_

_He could only nod as Ohno brought him back inside. There was a plate full of food waiting on his table, now cold. But there was fresh bread and water and enough stew to feed ten men. He’d have probably starved if it hadn’t have been for the baker’s persistence this past week._

_“Too much food,” he grumbled, sitting down and deciding where to start. For all that his life was meaningless and food seemed even more so, there was no way to turn down Ohno’s kindness._

_“Always make too much for myself,” his friend lied. All Nino could do was lift the fork to his mouth and chew while his friend kept watch._

The shotgun hit his back in a continuous rhythm. Each shot would kill one of Mendoza’s boys before they took him down. But not one of those shots would bring his friend back. He blinked, struggling enough in the darkness to see where he was going. He was a fine target for anything out here in the desert, but he’d go through hell and back.

This would be his last ride, and he wasn’t going to stop for anything.

\-----

He needed a bath. Sho figured someone could smell the stink on him halfway to Nebraska. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he sat up with a sigh, hearing cracks in his back. There was a lot to do. A whole lot to do.

There was already the slightest pink of sunrise peeking through the tiny window in the corner of his room. Aiba would be back with the women and children that morning if he’d  taken the quickest route back from Clearwater. Sho moved to his washbasin, pouring some day-old water from his pitcher in. He stripped the filthy pajamas from his person, trying to think of how he’d explain what happened to the returning families. As he moved the washcloth over his face, he wondered how he could convince anyone that Rapid Springs was safe.

He could just tell Aiba to turn right back around, but if he did, Sho knew that the menfolk would up and leave with them, and there’d be no more Rapid Springs at all. But the food shop had just burnt down, the only place with extra sacks of sugar and flour, with any sundry items to keep the town afloat in case the regular shipments couldn’t make it. He’d failed to protect the town, and now there was a chance that the children would go hungry. And it was all his fault.

He shoved the cloth back into the water, wringing out the filthy material. It would be nice to use the nice oaken tub in Ohno’s place, but it was gone, he remembered. It was all gone. Sho pulled open his drawers, finding some of the only remaining clothes that didn’t have blood stains or dirt caked in them. He was just buttoning up his shirt when he walked into the other room to find the cell empty.

Sho stood there for a few full intakes of breath, trying to process what it looked like. He saw Jun in his chair at the desk, leaning back against the wall in an uncomfortable position. The cell door was still ajar, and there was no sign of Ninomiya. He walked over, knowing he’d have a bullet between the eyes if he startled Jun with a shake to the shoulder.

“Matsumoto,” he mumbled, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. “Get up.”

Jun’s eyes fluttered open, almost pretty-like, and Sho had to keep focused as the other man emerged from his slumber. As the other man seemed to remember his surroundings, he leaned forward, taking his boots from the top of Sho’s desk and setting his feet on the floor. “Sho, I can explain.”

His fears were confirmed, and he could only look away from Jun’s still sleepy face to keep from breaking it. Sho walked with purpose, swinging the jail cell door on its creaky hinges. “You sprung him?”

“I said I can explain to you...”

Sho kicked at the iron bars, regretting it immediately since he hadn’t put on his boots yet. His foot stung something awful, but he was so angry that he didn’t much care. “You sprung that sniveling little demon?”

“Sheriff, Ohno was his best friend.”

He turned on Jun, eyes narrowing. “I don’t care if Ohno was his daddy. You did this and you didn’t tell me.”

The other man was on his feet now, coming close with measured steps. “No, I didn’t tell you.”

No matter what Sho did, a troublemaking gunslinger was the one who kept calling the shots in this town, and for all that Sho had all sorts of sinful thoughts about him, Jun was undermining his authority. Had from day one, and Sho had let his clouded mind and the other man’s caressing hands keep him from realizing it.

“You waited til I was asleep and you did as you pleased.”

Jun shook his head. “That’s not it, damn it. Would you listen to yourself? Can you stand there in your stocking feet and tell me that if it was your best friend killed in a fire that you wouldn’t stop at nothing to kill the men who did it to him?”

“I think we’ll never see eye to eye on what constitutes justice.” He shoved his way past Jun hard, ignoring the warmth of the man’s body as he pushed him aside. Sho grabbed for his mud-caked boots, sitting down on the bed to put them on.

Jun leaned against the doorway. “He’s got nothing left.”

“Oh, spare me. Lord Jesus, spare me from this bullshit.” He pulled one boot on. Sho could only see red, glaring at Jun. “You hate that bastard as much as I do. For manipulating and pulling the wool over our eyes. And now you’re such good fucking buddies that you just let him go walking out of my custody?”

The other man raised an eyebrow. “What exactly are you mad about again?”

Sho pulled the other boot on and stood, stomping to the doorway. The townspeople would be returning, wondering what the hell had happened. Not only were some of them dead from the gunfight but now Ohno and his store were gone. “Don’t you even turn this. You’re no better than he is if you try to pin this on me. How’d he sweet talk you into letting him out, Jun? He give you a free yank or two again?”

Jun looked ready to spit at him. “You watch yourself.”

He grabbed Jun by the collar of his shirt. “You don’t care who it is, do you? You don’t care if it’s me or Ninomiya or some whore, so long as you get yours, is that it?”

“Sheriff, I said watch yourself.”

He was close enough to feel Jun’s hot breath, harsh after sleeping. “He played me. Lord knows he played me, but I’m not so sure that it was such a hardship for you.”

Jun stopped leaning, standing at his full height and eyes just as deadly serious. “You know he ain’t coming back from this. Man’s gotta take care of his own business. You’re just sore I did your job for you. Again. Don’t make this about something it’s not.”

Fuck him. This was what happened to men out here. They did whatever was most convenient, and if that meant flaunting their power over the law and over justice and the common good, then so be it. But Sho was sick and tired of being played like a fiddle.

He gave Jun another shove, hard enough to send the man back against the wall. “You think by letting him go try and kill Mendoza that he’ll forgive you for letting his girl get killed? That the bargain you struck with him?”

Jun shoved back, and Sho nearly toppled backwards onto his own floor. “Don’t say nothing you can’t follow up, Sakurai.” Jun pushed one more time, and this time Sho did fall, backside hitting the floor with a sickening thud. “Calm down and do your fucking job. You should be rustling up some food for the townsfolk you still got alive!”

He staggered to his feet, and Jun barely dodged the fist coming to his face. Sho felt like all the fingers in his hand were going to break. “Shut up!” He’d drawn the first blood, and Jun could have punched right back. But he didn’t. Instead he just looked annoyed.

Sho watched Jun wipe the blood from his nose with his shirt, the fabric lifting briefly to expose the tanned skin of his stomach. Sho’s anger and desire were waging a war in his mind, and he didn’t know what to do or say.

“I’m done being your nursemaid, Sakurai. Either you understand my way of living or you don’t. But I don’t need to stand here and listen to you talk about things you have no business mentioning.” Sho’s pulse was racing, his lungs screaming. Jun said he wouldn’t leave. He said he’d stay. But had he just gone and run him off? Because of his stupid god damned pride?

He looked at the floor. “Jun...”

“I’m going to check the fire. And then I’m taking a horse and heading after Ninomiya.”

Sho listened to Jun leave, closing his eyes and wondering what the hell he was going to do now.

\------

Jun tried to keep his thoughts on anything else as he adjusted the cinch of his mare's saddle, leather sliding between weathered fingertips. He buckled the latigo and checked it for tautness, sighing to himself as he patted his mount's rump. She snorted, stamping her hooves against the dirt while looking back at him.

"Gotta ride hard," he told her, palm moving to pat the crest of her neck. Ninomiya had hours of a head start in front of him, and he'd have to make up time to catch the barkeep. His chest was constricted with the tightness that came from discomfort between men- and his nose still ached where Sakurai's fist had caught- but he tried to think only of the ride ahead of him, 'cross the dunes. He knew where Mendoza's usual hide-out was, and the Sandburg Boys couldn't be all too far since they'd been back recently to light Rapid Springs' goods store during the night. He knew the sands- maybe he had the advantage over the saloon owner there.

His mare shook her head, mane flopping to either side, and Jun reached for the bit to adjust the bridle. Just as he was moving to grab the reins and untie her from the hitching post, there was a shout behind him. For a moment, his breathing hitched- he was sure it was Mendoza, riding in for a mid-morning bloodbath, and his fingers itched towards his holsters unconsciously.

Another shout- and he could see the approaching figures through the dust kicked up by the horses' hooves.

Aiba stopped near the center of town and dismounted, hand tangling in the reins.

"You're early," Jun commented, but he was glad to see the deputy; at least something had gone right, in the whole damn scheme of things. The women- and Pastor White- were coming up behind the deputy in thundering herd of hooves and shouts. Rapid Springs' men gathered 'round, eager to greet their families after the absence, and Jun couldn't bite back the sting of regret. They'd lost two in the gun-fight against Mendoza's boys- how many more would they have to give up to his whims?

He was afraid to count Ninomiya as one of them. Well, if the saloon owner was one, then he was, too; he'd end up riding straight into gunfire going after the man, and he knew that preparing to depart. Wasn't like he had much else to stay for, given everything- just bloody noses and underhanded arguments. He was better off without it, the whole lot of it.

"Ain't early," Aiba sighed, clicking his tongue. "We- what the hell happened?"

Jun followed his gaze to the burnt shell of the dry goods store, looking like a streak of black against the beige expanse behind it.

"Mendoza," he answered, darkly.

"The supplies?" the blacksmith gaped. There was a whinny from one of the horses, and a stamping of impatient hooves; boots hit the ground as another figured dismounted, staring up at the blackened debris with oddly wide eyes.

Jun did a double-take, heart stopping.

"Ohno?"

"Wow," the baker said, scratching the back of his neck as he took in the shell of what was left of his store- his oven, his wares, the storeroom with sacks of salt and flour, even the packs of ammunition. Jun's heart was pounding in his chest like the thundering of the hooves had been against the ground, and he stepped forward just to make sure.

"I- you ain't dead," he said, in bewilderment.

"Should I be?" Ohno asked. Even in the face of the ruin, he was oddly unphased. Jun's mare was restless, stamping the dirt, and he reached unconsciously to grab her mane, tangling his fingers in the gritty hair to still her movements.

"We thought you were in there," Jun admitted. "We thought you got buried with the building. You- you ain't been here the whole time?"

It was Aiba who stepped forward then, hands on his hips. "I asked him to come with me."

There was a long pause, and Jun's heart dropped down to his belly.

"Shit," he hissed, and whirled to finish adjusting the mare's halter.

"What?" Aiba asked. There were murmurs behind him- dissent growing in the crowd. They all knew the food stores were gone, and Sheriff Sakurai would have a riot on his hands 'fore too long. Rapid Springs couldn't survive without wares, and the only wares within 10 miles was Ohno's shop. It was the death knell Mendoza had planned for it to be, but Jun couldn't concern himself with the welfare of the local folk. Sho had made it abundantly clear whose jurisdiction was trump, and he'd spat in Jun's face rather than see the gunslinger's help. That was his grave, then, and Jun wouldn't help him dig it any longer.

"Ninomiya," Jun mumbled, so that the rest wouldn't hear- they probably weren't listening anyway, overcome with panic about the food shortage. "Thought Ohno was dead and went off on a suicide mission towards the 'Burg Boys."

"Nino did?" Ohno asked, and for the first time since returning to Rapid Springs, he looked genuinely worried.

"Dammit," Jun groaned, when he couldn't get the cinch hooks to latch up. "I gotta catch him before he kills himself."

The commotion grew behind him, and Jun would have ignored it save for the fact that the sheriff's voice was drifting towards him. He was surrounded by people, clamoring and hollering and gesturing wildly towards the debris of the dry goods store.

"Now what?" they were screaming, pushing and shoving in their attempts to get over one another. "We're gonna die here without supplies!"

"Better help your sheriff, deputy," Jun said darkly, over his shoulder.

"You leavin'?" Aiba asked, and for a man who so rarely got upset, he sounded on the verge of anger.

Jun grabbed for the mare's reins, disentangling them from the post and clicking his tongue 'gainst his teeth to lead her backwards.

"Can't leave," Aiba said. "You can't leave now, Matsumoto!"

"Watch me," Jun mumbled through clenched teeth. "Ain't my problem anymore."

There were shouts now, and it was obvious the sheriff couldn't keep the crowd in line. He was trying, hands in the air, trying to get his voice to carry over the din, but it was a losing battle from every direction and Jun knew it, even if Sho didn't. Rapid Springs was on edge, and the fire was just the last straw she could take before full-on panic set in. Ain't nothin' gonna stop her from flying off the handle now.

It wasn't his problem- that much had been made abundantly clear.

"He's just gonna come back again an' again!" one of the men was yelling.

"What you gonna do, sheriff?" came the next outcry. "How you gonna solve this now?"

Jun glanced over and found Sho staring back at him. Sakurai's expression was full of too much for Jun to decipher, and he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to, anyway. One of the women was tugging on his arm, crying audibly.

"I'll go," Sho said, suddenly, and the knots in Jun's stomach increased ten-fold. "We'll go after Mendoza."

"We?" came the question. And Sho didn't drop his gaze, meeting Jun's eyes with fire mirroring what had propelled his fist earlier.

"We'll take care of Mendoza," the sheriff repeated. He pushed through the crowd and put a hand on Aiba's shoulder, an unspoken signal. The blacksmith let go of his mare's reins, pushing them into Sho's palm. Jun chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head.

"I ain't going after Mendoza, sheriff," he spat. "I'm going after Ninomiya."

"Hits the same end, don't it?" Sho shot back, stepping into the stirrup and mounting Aiba's mare. She whinnied, throwing her mane a bit as his spurs hit her flanks. "We're heading in the same direction."

"This your plan, then?" Jun asked, barely swallowing back his ire. "You gonna use both of us to take care of what you should be doin'?"

Sho's mount snorted when he pulled back hard on the reins, bit clicking against teeth. "You think you know what I want, Matsumoto?"

"I don't think you know what you want," Jun hissed. He was sick and tired of all of it- Sho's indecision, his pride-fueled lashings. Jun didn't need it. His own mind gave him enough guilt to deal with as it was. Didn't matter how much he itched to run his hands through the sheriff's hair, to get him flat against the mattress and groaning beneath him. He'd hit his limit. Why couldn't the man just let him leave?

"Know I want to do my job," Sho said, each word more forceful than the last. He kicked at the mount's sides again, and she reared up.

"Hey," Ohno said. He stepped forward, hand on Jun's shoulder. Had it been anyone else, Jun would have shrugged the touch off, but Ohno's fingers felt calming rather than damning. "He ain't a bad guy, alright?"

For a moment, Jun thought he was talking about the sheriff. It took a second for his mind to catch up to who Ohno was really concerned about.

"I'll get him," Jun said, grabbing for his own horse's reins. "I'll get him back."

And he was amazed at how much he actually meant the words. He pushed aside everything else- at the moment, he knew all he needed to 'bout Ninomiya. He was willing to die for his friend's memory, and that was enough. Ignoring everything else, it was enough. Ohno deserved that much; the baker had never been anything but kind to Jun.

"Let's go," Sakurai commanded, and Jun leveled him a glower as he swung his weight up into the saddle.


	8. Chapter 8

The sun was just barely starting to peek over the far ridge when he reached the scattered buildings just outside Mendoza's encampment. It wasn’t more than a few hitching posts and a Pony Express outpost- though there was a saloon that was little more than a hole in the wall- which meant that the Sandburgs could come and go in relative peace. He gave Aiba’s horse a sharp smack to the rump, deciding to approach on foot.

The long ride had given him the chance to take his rage and channel it into a sharp focus. His senses were hyper alert, leading him to start slightly at every bird in the sky or tumbleweed blowing past. He’d need to be as sharp as possible if he was going to take as many of Mendoza’s boys with him to hell.

The town’s eastern exit dropped off down into a fairly deep gulch. On the opposite end, covered by a protruding rock wall was Mendoza’s headquarters. The gulch would easily flood during rainfall, trapping them, but the sky was cloudless. Nino knew that Mendoza had men with rifles in scattered places, sniping perches cut right into the rock. He just had to keep a close eye, looking for a flash of color that stood out - a pulled up rope ladder.

He held the shotgun tight, finding an abandoned well at the edge of town. Crouching down behind it, he was able to poke his head up slightly to look across the gulch to the encampment. There were tents in a tight formation, and as far as he recalled from Mendoza’s bragging stories, there was a decent enough cave behind them with branching tunnels to store loot, supplies, captives, anything. Mendoza would only keep the most expendable men outside to serve as a front line defense.

The man would know the tunnels, every nook and cranny, as good as a mole digging his own path in the dirt. And that was going to be Nino’s disadvantage. Even if he was able to cross the gulch and make it past the riflemen, there’d be the tents and then the tunnels. Mendoza may have been a toothless idiot, but certainly he’d have the best little hidey hole inside. For all that he’d be trapped by a larger force, Mendoza would have no problem against Ninomiya alone.

Crossing the gulch would be the first step. He wasn’t familiar with the terrain like Mendoza and he didn’t have the practiced sneaky feet like Matsumoto. And he’d be a fool to go in broad daylight. His vision would be hindered, but he’d have to wait for nightfall. His fingers were itching to fire the shotgun, to see red on the canvas tents, blood smeared on the cool cave walls. But Nino was a businessman and he knew all about maximizing one’s profits. If he was to die, then it would only be wise to ensure that he left Mendoza hurting or equally dead.

He’d have the light of the cooking fires if he wanted to go during dinner time, catch them unawares, but he was one man. No, he’d have to wait until they slept, the next night. He’d have to save the shotgun blasts for the cave. Everything else had to be sneaky-like. There was a blade in his satchel. He’d never taken a man’s life up close, but he had nothing to lose, did he?

Nino looked across the gulch one more time, seeing a few men milling about near the tents. There were fifty men sleeping there as morning broke over, easily. Hiding behind the well in the sun was just going to leave him exhausted. He crept away, crawling down to find a gap in the rock wall of the town. It was cooler inside, and he had an unobstructed view across to Mendoza’s place. So long as they didn’t spot him first, he’d be able to stay until night time.

He opened his satchel, seeing the hardened bread roll he’d packed, sniffing it appreciatively. “I’ll get them for you, Satoshi,” he mumbled, taking a bite out of the roll, trying to commit the taste to memory. He’d never get a chance to have it again.

\-------

He couldn't tell which was smarting more- his thighs or his pride.

After giving him short, almost rude answers to the questions he asked, Jun had taken to ignoring him completely, and Sho gave up on trying to make conversation with the man. His knuckle would bruise the next day and he was only half-sorry for it. Every time he thought about trying again- mouth open and everything- he would remember Jun's insistence that he was only going after Ninomiya, and his jaw would snap shut again. The sands weren't easy to ride over- it took more muscle than usual to keep himself upright in the saddle as the mare tripped and slid through rolling dunes.

God damned gunslinger undermining his authority in his own town. God damned traitor letting the barkeep out of the cell he'd been contained in. It didn't take much thought to remember the hotness of Nino's mouth between his legs, and every time he did, the sweeping wave of guilt hit him like gunfire all over again. Rapid Springs was his town- he didn't need no good-for-nothing wanderer muckin' it all up, let alone one so withdrawn and anguish-ridden that he could barely be kept in the town's bounds at all.

It was Jun's betrayal that felt like the lowest blow of all. Jun's deliberate release of the man behind Sho's misery was worse than if the gunslinger had just extracted a revenge to Sho's face.

Sho's fingers clenched unconsciously tighter 'round the reins, and he kicked harder at his mount's sides, spurning her onward.

"We should rest," Jun said from behind him- it startled him. It was the first thing the other man had said in hours. "Gettin' dark soon."

"Ain't stopping now," Sho argued.

"There's a plateau right over there we can camp on," the gunslinger pointed past the closest dunes to a breaking ridge jutting up against the purpling sky.

"I said we ain't stopping," Sho repeated.

"You wanna spend the night in the sand later on?" Jun laughed; it sounded infinitely more malicious than anything else he'd heard from the man since meeting him. "Get up and cozy with the nasties crawling out when the sun goes down? Be my guest. But I'm stoppin' here."

He didn't even know why he was fighting- the man was right, but just thinking it made his blood boil. Sho stopped his horse, barely managing to bite back a comment simply to prolong the argument. He just knew he wanted another shot at Jun's pretty face with his fist, and it was driving him crazy. His mare could sense his agitation, stomping into the sands as he brought her around to face the campsite in question.

"You know everything 'bout the desert, huh?" Sho said, snide, and decidedly un-kind.

"Sorry we don't have no fancy hotels out here for you, sheriff," Jun shot back. "You want that kind of treatment, maybe you should go back east and pick up whatever sheltered life you had 'fore coming out here."

"I ain't going back," Sho hissed. That much was true- leaving would be an admission of defeat, and he wasn't going to let the west beat him. No devil-tongued saloon owner, no pretty-faced gunslinger, no Rapid Springs was going to be the victor. He'd left his life to prove something; limping back would just wound his pride more than dealing with the desert-scum was doing.

"What are you gonna do, then?" Jun asked.

"Just get on with it," Sho ground out. His jaw was popping from the pressure of clenching his teeth against each other. "We got camp to set up."

The other man leveled him with an angry scowl, but kicked at his horse's sides and took off towards the plateau with Sho on his heels. By the time they reached the flat ridge, the sky was streaked with dark reds, last bits of daylight peaking out from behind the horizon they were dipping beneath. The air had already cooled; thing about the desert was that it dropped its heat faster than a whore's smile once the coin was passed.

After dismounting, Sho tied his mare's reins to a small, half-dead gnarled tree growing near the start of the rocky incline. Jun knocked the flint together until the browned weeds smoked and caught fire.

They sat for a long time in tense silence, until the stars painted the sky. From beyond their position, Sho heard a coyote, long and mournful against the moon, until it was joined by another, and then another, spread 'round them in an arc. He wasn't worried 'bout coyotes; they were the least of his problems. His own guilt and insecurities would eat him alive long before a mangy dog would, he was sure of that. He stared at the flickering flames as if they would cleanse the stains from his soul.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked, before he realized the words had fallen from his lips.

"Give up, sheriff," Jun snipped. He was chewing on a bit of salted meat he'd pulled from his pack.

"You let a man out of jail in my own station, least you can do is answer me," Sho said.

For a few minutes, he thought Jun was still going to ignore him and stay silent, but then the other man shifted, boots scraping across the rock of the ridge.

"I told you," Jun said, finally, spitting into the fire and brushing dirt from his trousers. "Thought his best friend died. I'd have done the same thing- was no good to keep him cooped up behind those bars."

"You know what he did," Sho said, plaintitively.

"And you know what he's been through," Jun shot back. The anger was welling again in Sho's chest, threatening to steal his breath away. He clenched and unclenched his fingers a few times, knuckles cracking. "Haven't you had enough of this yet?"

"Not about that," Sho fumed, glaring at the glowing embers.

"No, it's not," Jun agreed. "This is about you. It's always been about you."

"Stop talkin' about things you don't understand!" Sho cried. He was up and on his feet quicker than he thought he could be, surging towards the other man. He wanted to hit him again- how badly he wanted to wipe the smug look off his mouth. He was pushing it, always pushing it; Jun wasn't content to let things be. He had to poke and stir at the pot, watching as everyone around him got hit with the hot ash it spewed.

"You're threatened!" Jun hollered back. He took a step forward, like a warning- Sho wished he would just hit back. At least then he'd have an excuse to start his fists flying again. "Admit it!"

"'Bout you and Ninomiya?" Sho asked. "Why, you gonna run away together and start your own saloon? Could hang portraits of his girl on the walls, remind of you all the great times you had together."

Jun was very close then, glaring daggers. His teeth were white even in the orange firelight, like a bear. "Hit the mark, didn't it, sheriff? You think you got me all figured out. But you can't even figure yourself out anymore."

"Shut up," Sho hissed, because his lungs had constricted painfully.

"Why? You don't know how."

"Shut up," Sho said again, with more force. "Shut up! You were the one that came following after a man whose done nothing but wrong by you!"

"You think I was gonna hang around to let you belittle me?" Jun asked, laughing. "I ain't sticking my neck out for someone who can't figure out what he wants."

"And Nino does?"

Jun's eyes were glinting dangerously. "I dunno, you tell me! You seem to know everything 'bout everyone, don't you?"

He moved forward, and Sho took a step back instinctively. And then the other man kept moving, til Sho's heels hit the rocks and his back felt the solid table. He had nowhere else to go; cornered like a damn rat.

"What is it, sheriff? Huh?" Jun was in his face, smoldering. "What is it you want? You want me gone? You want Ninomiya gone? Your life back? Rapid Springs to yourself?" When Sho didn't answer, Jun grabbed at his collar, pushing him back against the rock in a move that sent throbs of white-hot pain down Sho's back as his shoulderblades hit unforgiving stone. "Well? What do you want?"

"You," Sho breathed. The admission burned on his tongue. Jun's hands fell from his collar and he doubled forward a bit, free from the pressure.

"Don't say shit you won't go through with," Jun gasped. "Don't."

He should have denied it; with every God-fearing fiber in his body, he should have denied it to Heaven and back. But it was rolling like a tumbleweed, and he was powerless to stop it. In the flames, Jun's eyes were wide, fingers twitching at his sides. He looked- beautiful. Alluring. Like sin walking with low-hanging holsters that banged against his hips.

And Sho just reached for him, reached for Jun's face to crush their mouths together. Jun tasted like the meat he'd been chewing on, like dust and embers and something so wrong it rang in Sho's bloodstream. His lips parted in surprise, shocked, and he was stumbling backwards a bit, aiming around the fire.

Then his hands twisted up and grabbed a hold of Sho's shoulder, one grabbing his ear and hair without mercy. He kissed Sho back with ferver, with feeling, with deliberateness behind each subtle movement of his lips. It was frenzied and slow at the same time, and they faltered back again. Sho wasn't sure who was leading, and he wasn't sure that it mattered- he was wrapped up in the headiness of Jun's scent.

Jun sucked on Sho's lower lip, nipping, and it sent a pang of elation down Sho's spine. He groaned against Jun's mouth and tried tugging him closer, as if it were possible to press the man's heat further into his form. His hands moved to the back of Jun's head and his tongue swept in through parted, chapped lips. He was met there, tangling against the other.

Someone's footing slipped, and they fell, even as one of Sho's hands slid down Jun's back to press at the base of his spine, to the dip in his skin- it was right where his belt hung, holsters banging noisily as they ended up in a jumbled pile of limbs on the rock below. Sho brushed the hilts of the revolvers away, reaching for the buckle. The belt was in the way, and he wanted everything- every bit of Jun beneath his fingers. He wanted to touch and feel and taste every tanned stretch of skin, every slender curve. When the belt fell off, he kicked it away and tried to even out their bodies while keeping their mouths fused, heat contained.

Jun's teeth were on his bottom lip again, tugging. His hands were sweeping over Sho's shoulders and slipping in under the vest displaying the pointed star. Even trailing across the cotton of Sho's shirt, he could feel the heat, the tension in Jun's fingers. They were moving with deftness, with purpose. He had to shift his weight to his knees to get his arms free, but it was worth it once he got the gunslinger's shirt open. The skin hidden beneath was unmarred save for a pucker of skin near his shoulder, winding down like a snake's path in the sands. It was smooth and hot and Sho wanted to touch all of it, had to feel every inch of it. He disentangled their mouths to let his lips find the skin between Jun's jaw and earlobe.

He was rewarded with a gasp when he sucked at the flesh there, so he did it again.

Jun's hips bucked up against his, grinding their legs together, and Sho could already feel the other man's length, hard and jutting against his hipbone. He could sense Jun's agitation, his frustrated desire, but when Jun tried to get his hands in Sho's shirt again, he curled his fingers 'round the gunslinger's wrists and pushed his arms back. This was his pace- this was his game, his dominance.

A groan fell past Jun's lips, but it was garbled and breathy. Sho let his mouth wander downward to the jagged scar on Jun's shoulder, tracing the raised skin with his tongue. He knew what it was from; it was impossible to forget. Jun's skin tasted like sweat and dust, like powder and the burn of whiskey down the throat, as Sho moved his lips down past his nipple, across the smooth skin of the man's abdomen.

He lingered there. He could feel Jun's hips moving again, trying to find friction, searching, but he stayed on the man's stomach, fingertips trailing across the skin and mouth following the path.

Another gasp, hitching in the back of Jun's throat, and Sho lifted his eyes. Jun was watching him, lips parted and eyes wide, watching him like he couldn't look away or else the whole thing would disappear. And Sho leaned forward to kiss Jun's navel, to nip at the skin as his hands undid his trousers. As hot as his body felt, he would have sworn the desert's midday sun had come back out from behind the moon. He could feel Jun quivering beneath his weight.

His thoughts were screaming in his head, but for once, his doubt was silent. Wasn't no God gonna stop his hands then; no bible gonna keep his mouth from finding every part of Jun he could. With trembling digits he un-did the other man's trousers, feeling all at once like an inexperienced child again, trying to learn to walk. He slipped one hand in beneath the threads, palm brushing across the gunslinger's cock- another gasp, and quickened breathing, and Jun's thighs were practically shaking.

Sho didn't know what he was supposed to be doing- but he knew what he wanted to do. Lord Almighty, he knew what he wanted, knew how smooth Jun's skin was beneath his fingertips. He kissed the other man's stomach again, and, pushing aside the unhooked garment on his legs, strayed lower.

When his mouth found the man's length, he got a hissing intake of air in response. Sho was aware that he was in a very powerful position, sort of at the edge of his comprehension; he'd been trained in control, in evaluating power and effectiveness of positioning. On his knees, half-sprawled over Jun's legs- he was trusted. It was heady, almost as much as Jun's heavy breathing was. He closed his lips over the tip.

Hands fell on his shoulders, pulling at the fabric. Moving his mouth up and down, the fingers tightened, tugging at Sho's shirt like reins, like leading him over and around and speeding up and slowing down. Jun's breathing was punctuated by little gasps that slowly melded into mews, whimpers of pleasure and arousal.

He was close- Sho could tell, from the fact that his fingers were digging into the flesh of his shoulders and the way his groans had turned into keening moans. His own arousal was digging into his thigh from the angle, almost painful, and every noise that fell from Jun's lips only added to it.

The other man's breath hitched and his tone rose, and he came with a surprising sweetness, kind of earthy and hot. Sho let his fingers run over the exposed stomach as Jun's breathing tried to regulate itself, kissing the skin. He felt a bit light-headed, like he'd run too fast in the sands.

And then Jun was moving, grabbing for the sides of Sho's face to bring him in for another searing kiss. His hand was almost immediately working down to Sho's belt buckle. Sho groaned when Jun's fingers made contact with his own cock- groaned when he could lace his own hands through the gunslinger's hair, could feel and see and know that it was him. Jun's mouth broke away from Sho's and moved, to bite at his ear, to nip at his collarbone, while his hand curled 'round his length.

Sho groaned again and couldn't even get Jun's name past his lips, especially not when the other man pushed him back flat against the rock, reversing their positions. All he could feel was the heat between his thighs as Jun's hand continued its ministrations, and then the burning kisses being delivered to his chest, to his stomach. A rustle of threads and his trousers were tugged off his hips. Sho tried to find something to grab, to curl his fingers around, and couldn't find anything other than Jun's hair.

Jun's lips found his tip, taking his length in- it was hotter than he remembered. Hotter and stickier and threatening to overtake him completely because he wanted to fall into it, to drown in the depths of the sensations. The other man's rhythm was demanding, just like everything else about him. One of Jun's hands crept up Sho's stomach, palm flat against his abdomen, and he reached for it without thinking, entangling their fingers together.

He gasped, swallowing the lump in his throat, struggling to find air.

He couldn't- he couldn't find footing or oxygen or balance on the brink. Jun's mouth was moving up and down, tightening and loosening and somehow he was making circles with his tongue at the same time. Sho bucked against it unconsciously, wanting more, wanting to bury all of his self within the heat.

Jun's mouth tightened, and so did his fingers between Sho's, and Sho moaned- God, he moaned just like Jun had, a noise he hadn't even known his throat could force out. The sensations coiled in his stomach, roiling and doubling upon themselves until they exploded, and he came with a warbling groan. He squeezed his eyes shut when Jun's tongue ran over his tip, finding every last bit between his lips.

Then the other man was moving, hands sliding back up Sho's chest to cup his face again. Sho opened his eyes- he wasn't sure if he could say anything, even if he had wanted to. Jun's weight was solid and hot against his, bodies pressed together, Jun's hands playing with wisps of hair near Sho's ears. The gunslinger gave him a kiss, chaste and gentle, and then let his forehead rest against Sho's.

It felt like the tension between them had dissipated completely. Even Sho's shoulders felt relaxed.

The coyote in the distance howled again, and Jun sighed content-like.

"Jun," Sho whispered, and then stopped, because he didn't know what to follow it with. He just wrapped his arms 'round the other man's back tightly instead.

"Mm," came the response anyway, near his ear, followed by a kiss against his jaw. Sho's eyelids were heavy, fluttering down without his command. He couldn't help it; there was a drug in his bloodstream, lulling him to peaceful dreams, and it was the same drug curled against him. Another kiss to the side of his lips, and he fell into nothingness.

\------

He wasn’t altogether accustomed to waking up with an arm around his waist. Jun shook the sleep away, hearing a groan behind him. “Morning,” he mumbled, feeling Sho’s arm tighten possessively around his middle.

Jun grinned, pleased the sheriff had finally thrown caution to the wind and gone after what he wanted. Because it was rare that his interests and the sheriff’s had ever matched up in the short time they’d known one another, but last night had been something to remember. Out in the open, alternating between the cool desert air goose pimpling his skin and Sho’s inexperienced, but warm and good intentioned mouth where Jun had been aching for it - it wasn’t something he’d forget.

And much as he wanted to continue where they’d left off the night before, he remembered all too quickly that Ninomiya was on a suicide mission if they didn’t get around to stopping him. He detangled himself from Sho, leaning to see that the sheriff hadn’t found sleeping on the ground to be all that pleasant. You could take the man from the pajamas, Jun figured, but taking the pajamas from the man was a real thing to conquer.

The sun was just peeking out from beyond the mountains, and they had to get going. Sleeping had already kept them hours behind Ninomiya, but even if he’d already arrived, the saloon owner wasn’t dumb enough to attack in broad daylight. Even in a rampage, Jun knew the man was far too calculating and shrewd to throw his life away so easily.

He got to his feet, refastening his pants and poking at the sheriff’s leg with the tip of his boot. With all they’d done, neither of them had gotten their boots off, and it was a little strange in hindsight. “Come on, get up.”

Hopefully they’d find a creek on the way. They were dangerously low on their water reserves, and they’d have to push the horses hard to make it to Nino in time. Sho was still figuring out where he was, blinking slowly and not moving a muscle. Jun turned away to hide a smile. He’d had far more awkward mornings after, but the sheriff was probably remembering one of Pastor White’s sermons about eternal hellfire.

Jun brought the horses over, running a hand through his hair and remembering how it had felt to have Sho’s fingers gripping and tugging. He sighed. They were both distracted now. There’d be trouble at Mendoza’s for sure when they arrived. They had to get their heads on straight. But that was hard to do when Sho was standing there, buttoning up his trousers with the shaky fingers of a virgin after her wedding night.

He held out the reins for the sheriff. “Mount up. We need to make the encampment before nightfall.”

“Right,” Sho said quietly, trying to shove one of his shirt buttons through its hole. But he was already doing them up wrong, and Jun just chuckled, dropping the reins and pulling Sho’s hands away. The other man breathed in sharply at the contact, and Jun pulled the  shirt apart once more to do the buttons up the right way. He grabbed the man’s vest from the ground, helping him pull it on. Jun wasn’t used to this kind of intimacy - most of his affairs had been concluded once the woman had bitten the coin to be certain it was legitimate. For all its unfamiliarity, there was something that felt almost right about spending these seconds together.

The sheriff’s star gleamed in the still rising sunlight. Sho could only stare at him, and Jun followed the man’s gaze to his lips. There was little time for this, but since the sheriff hadn’t run off screaming yet, it was a safe bet he wanted to continue. Jun only allowed himself the slightest taste, enough to stave off temptation, brushing his lips quickly against the corner of Sho’s mouth before grabbing the mare’s reins again. “Come on.”

Sho nodded, getting one boot in the stirrup and hoisting himself up on the waiting animal. “We keep going that way?”

He nodded. “We do.”

Jun mounted his own horse, wordlessly following after the sheriff. They didn’t exchange a word until they came upon a creek. They filled their water skins, washing some of yesterday’s dirt from their faces. He took a long drink, seeing that Sho couldn’t stop watching him. Jun wasn’t used to being under such a predatory gaze, but he didn’t dislike it.

“This...” Sho started, fumbling for words, his pretty brain seemingly slowed to a turtle’s pace. “This means something? You and me?”

“I’d wager it does.”

Sho seemed satisfied with this answer, heading back for his horse. “Let’s go stop that idiot.”

\------

Nino had watched the sun cross the sky, finally sinking off beyond the plateaus in the distance. Now the stars were coming out as the sky went from orange to black. The cooking fires brought the scent of pork across the gulch to the little alcove where he’d made himself cozy.

As soon as the fires went out and the men went to sleep, he could make his move. None of the men in their little sniper perches would be able to see him that clearly once night fell, so long as he didn’t send any rocks falling as he clambered up the other side of the ravine.

But panic set in at the sound of hooves behind him, back in the town. Was it one of the Pony Express riders? Were Mendoza’s ranks swelling? Or had he been spotted and the gang was surrounding him?

He crawled out from his hiding spot on his belly, sending a few pebbles down the embankment. Luckily, there was still banjo playing and raucous laughter echoing across the gulch, muting his own noisy movements. He left the shotgun behind in the alcove, creeping up the hill and hurriedly sprinting for the side of the well. Nino’s fingers closed around the handle of his knife. Nobody was going to kill him, not yet. Not before he’d gotten to die on his own terms.

He listened closely as two riders dismounted off in the shadows just past where he’d tethered his horse.

“That’s Aiba’s mare, all right,” he heard one hushed voice say, and his heart caught in his throat. They’d followed him. Those bastards had followed him, and they were going to foul everything up. Matsumoto with his silent but insistent need to be in control and Sakurai with his inability to walk three steps without tripping over his own feet.

He stayed behind the well, listening to them tying their horses to the posts. “You think he’s already dead?” Sakurai, always a ray of sunshine.

Boots scraping the pebbled trail. “Doubt it. He’ll wait til they’re all cozy in their tents.” Jun, cocksure as always. But at least the other man understood that Nino was no fool.

“Let’s split up and find him,” Sakurai was mumbling, and as Nino squinted in the darkness, he saw how closely the two men were standing, how their hands idled at their sides, itching to move. His eyes widened as Jun patted Sho almost affectionately, almost intimately on the shoulder before they went in different directions. Irritation coiled in his gut like a rattlesnake, and he tried desperately to ignore it. He had to corner one of them before they got to him first and dragged him screaming back to Rapid Springs.

Knowing that Jun was the more experienced and quicker on the draw, he kept his sights on the sheriff, watching the man head around the side of the Pony Express building while Jun took the long way past the other dark buildings of the town. He held his knife at the ready. He didn’t need to draw any blood that wasn’t Mendoza or his gang, but he’d be damned if Sakurai or Matsumoto kept him from exacting his just and necessary revenge.

He crept away from the well, determined to meet Sho around the rear of the building. And he had surprise on his side. The sheriff was just rounding the corner, unawares as always when Nino caught him by the throat, shoving him back against the whitewashed wall.

“Evening, Sheriff,” he greeted the man, holding the razor sharp tip of the knife beneath the man’s eye. If Sho so much as fidgeted, he’d be a Cyclops right quick. “Don’t suppose you’re looking to quell my righteous anger tonight?”

Sho gulped, desperate from air. “Ninomiya,” he managed to choke out, and Nino just tightened his grip around the man’s windpipe. Turnabout was fair, wasn’t it? Nino didn’t have a short memory, and that day in the church during the town meeting hadn’t been that long ago.

“Now you hold your tongue unless you want me to cut it out your mouth.” He got close enough to smell the sweat of a day’s long ride on the other man. “Ohno was my friend, and if you think you and your pretty friend are going to halt my business here, then you are mistaken.”

The sheriff’s eyes narrowed, that same pompous attitude he always carried about his person. Nino almost enjoyed the man’s wheezing attempts at breathing, the constricted gasps as he kept his fingers firmly planted against the man’s neck. He dragged the knife along the baby soft skin of Sho’s cheek, not enough to draw blood, but enough to get his point across.

“Don’t make me mess this sweet little face. I doubt Matsumoto wants his girlfriend carved up like a bleedin’ pig,” he said, unwilling to stamp down his own menace. Sho’s lips twitched at that bit, and Nino almost wanted to laugh at the confirmation of his suspicions. He had to make his way across the gulch soon, and he didn’t have much time left to fuck around with Sheriff Meek and his paramour. “You get back on that horse and you forget about me.”

He hadn’t even heard Jun approach until he confirmed his presence with the cocking of the revolver hammer. “Ain’t going nowhere, Nino,” the gunslinger remarked, and Nino felt the cool barrel of the gun tapping against his temple. “Let my girfriend go.”

Nino loosened his grip on Sho’s neck and on the knife, letting it drop to the dirt with a quiet thump. The gun disappeared, and Sho coughed quietly, glaring past Nino at Jun. “Don’t call me that ever again,” the sheriff complained, rubbing his throat.

He stepped to the side, turning so he had Sho to his left and Jun, reholstering his weapon, to his right. “If this is the luck I have against you two, I’ll be dead ‘fore I cross that ravine,” he mumbled bitterly.

“No need to cross it,” Jun answered, retrieving Nino’s knife from the ground and holding it out for him as some gesture of trust or peace, either or.

The saloon owner slipped the knife back into the sheath at his hip. “Maybe you didn’t hear me, being all consumed with the need to rescue your fair damsel...”

“Enough,” Sho groaned, reaching for his holster, and Jun waved him off.

“Shut your lips for a damn second and listen, would you?” Jun’s look was almost sincere, if Nino was used to seeing anyone out in this part of the country looking that way. “Don’t go throwing your life away for Ohno’s sake because he’s not singing with the angels. He’s alive, Nino. He’s still breathing.”

He blinked. “Fuck you.”

“It’s true,” Sho chimed in. “He went with Aiba that day and in typical behavior for the both of those idiots, they didn’t think anyone else needed to be informed. I swear to you, your friend is alive. He’s got no store, but he’s got his life, and by God, you still got yours.”

His mind tried to work in this new information, hitting against the very real sight of the flaming dry goods shop, and the hours he’d spent riding out here consumed with revenge. He sank to the ground, wordless, unable to convince himself that the two men before him were speaking truthfully. They could have been lying, just trying to distract him long enough to bring him back to town.

Jun crouched down at his side, shaking his shoulder. “Hey.”

“Don’t believe you.”

“Ain’t about believing or disbelieving. You’ll see when we get back. Alive.”

He snorted. “Not going with you. Just get all of Aiba’s horses back before he stops leaving them shoed and ready to go.”

Nino felt the gunslinger’s rough hand grip his shoulder. “We’re not going back. Not yet.”

The sheriff cleared his throat. “What he means to say is that you’re not fighting alone.” He held out his hand, and all Nino could do was stare at it. “I’ll forgive you for trying to stick me, so long as you’re the first one inside Mendoza’s cave.”

Jun gave him a shake. “Get up already. Lost your nerve?”

So these idiots were going to fight at his side. Well, fifty against three was marginally better odds than fifty to one. If the three of them died, then so be it. But the thought of Ohno waiting back in Rapid Springs, complaining about the loss of his bread oven, was enough to lessen the suicidal itchings in his brain.

He slapped Sho’s hand away and got to his feet. “Alright, Matsumoto. We follow my strategy, you hear?”

\-----

Mendoza was a fool.

The man had to be expecting somethin'; he'd burned down Rapid Springs' source of sustinence in the middle of the night like a damn coward, had brought upon almost certain ruin at his own hands, and there he'd been in the saloon anyway, drinkin' like he ain't done nothing wrong. He was a fool to think that no one was gonna come after him followin' the fire- a fool to think that they would take the high road instead of falling down to his level. It was his foolheadedness that was gonna get him killed, and Jun was thanking their lucky stars for that.

At least Ninomiya had the good sense to agree to the same battle plan. They'd waited 'til nightfall and several rounds before sneaking close to the tents. The men sleeping off the effects of the whiskey would give them a few seconds extra in regards to reaction times, and Mendoza's own lack of sobriety could only help them in the long run. They'd watched as the Sandburb Boys had stumbled back from the saloon with laughs and guffaws of victory; must have tasted sweet on their tongues. Must have thought Rapid Springs' was done for like a lame horse, ready to be taken out to pasture and shot.

Mendoza hadn't counted on Jun. And he'd picked the wrong target to go after; all he'd done was succeeded in pushing Ninomiya into a driven rage.

It was finally quiet in the direction of the tents. Most of the boys had succumbed to liquor's deep sleep. Jun glanced back over his shoulder to where Sho and Nino were waiting, behind the next building over. By moonlight, they'd have enough to see with- more than the 'burg boys would, anyway. Jun cocked two fingers up and gestured towards the gang's sleeping quarters, and then started to move.

Scuttling low rose aches in his knees, but it kept his boots from kicking up noise in the sand. The knife in his hand felt solid; tangible. He was counting on the others to have good enough sense not to raise a racket slipping in and out of the sleepin' tents, and he didn't check to see if they were moving as well. He had to trust them. He had to concentrate on his own task.

Mendoza was in the caves, but at least half his men slept on the dunes outside- that was half they could potentially take out 'fore Mendoza knew he was even under attack.

He reached the first tent, and slid inside.

\--

Every muscle was screaming at him, and Sho couldn't get any of his thoughts to quiet down. It was one thing to squeeze the trigger of a shotgun- that felt like a world away, a distant memory. He had a knife pressed into his palm and instructions to use it.

Nino was to his left, banking wide to take the far side, and Jun to his right- another glance relayed that the gunslinger was already within the first tent, flaps barely fluttering behind him. Sho had the middle.

His arms were shaking somethin' awful.

There wasn't much time. He almost fell into the first tent on his projected path, narrowly avoiding running into the snoring man's boots; stupid bloke hadn't even taken the damn things off 'fore collapsing. Sho could see only the outline of his face with the moon and stars as guidance. It disguised the features, but gave him enough to aim for. Had to aim. Had to go.

A muffled sputter from down the line, but he wouldn't have heard it had he not been specifically listenin' for it. He reached forward and roughly grabbed the sleeping man's hair. The whiskey gave him precious seconds extra to right himself and center his thoughts- mind screaming at him to focus on the task at hand- and then he drew the blade quick and hard against the exposed stretch of flesh at the throat.

Warm drops splattered on his hands. He dropped the man's gurgling head like it was made of burning coals, disgust rising hot and bitter in the back of his throat.

 _Move, move, move_ was all he could hear, screaming against his ears, and, still trembling, he obeyed.

\--

It wasn't til the third tent Ninomiya ran into that the man woke before his blade met skin. He saw the whites of his eyes, so close he could nearly see the thoughts flashing across the victim's features- a split-second of gut-wrenching knowledge of what was coming, and then his blood was on Nino's sleeves. He tsk-ed mildly; that would never come out of the threads.

But the man had woken early, and somehow he had woken another, before he even got through the flaps. The next was on his feet, movin' like a spooked sow into the moonlight, and Nino had to draw his arm back and land a good punch to his face to get him down. Something cracked beneath his knuckles, and his wrist throbbed. The man fell with a palm to his cheek and a howl of pain- dammit, he was loud- and Nino's slice across his throat was far less precise than the others had been. He went down with a gurgle of anguish and blood choking his throat.There was crimson, black in the shadows, coagulating with the sand, and it was sticking all over Nino's boots.

It was too soon. They hadn't gotten enough, had they? He couldn't waste the time to check over 'cross the sprawl of tents. His knife's blade was sticky already. He raced into the next tent and managed to get Mendoza's man before he properly woke out of his drunken stupor. Not for the first time in his life, he was thankful for whiskey.

Dammit. They were all waking, and if they didn't get to the caves in time, Mendoza would be warned, up, and away before they could get to him.

There were footsteps all around him, heavy and unsteady in the sands, and Nino let his knife fall. He preferred his shotgun anyway.

\--

"Attack!"

There it was- the shout for alarm. The ringing, the end of the subterfuge; Mendoza's men were roused and moving, justling out of tents while trying to pull out bullets and powder for their weapons. The ones that weren't lying still with torn throats were shouting and panicking and Mendoza would hear soon enough, it was only a matter of time.

Time they didn't have enough of. Jun swallowed back the curse; it would only waste breath. Both hands reached for his holsters, fingers itching towards the triggers like second nature. He fired off three shots and caught two men coming out from their tents. One went down with a howl, clutching his leg- he would live. The other dropped silently with a bullet in his brain.

Jun sprinted towards the center of the dunes. With only three of them, they had to stick together or spread out as dissparate moving objects- either or, but not both. Mendoza's cave was smack in the center of the back ridge, so moving inward would provide better aim to break through.

From the other side, there were shots echoing his; Ninomiya. Jun hoped the man's aim was better than when he'd been shooting into the blacksmith's forge, if nothing else. And all around him there were bodies stirring, moving, and he tried to take out as many as they exited their sleeping tents as he could.

He just didn't know if it would be enough.

\--

He couldn't stop trembling. His gun was in his hands and he couldn't find the damn trigger. From every side there were screams in Spanish, and then the explosive bang of return fire at them, and his lock was stuck and he couldn't un-jam it. He couldn't get his fingers to obey his mind enough to get it free, couldn't focus on the weapon in his palms.

His hands were coated. He could see it in the moonlight, dark like sin that would never leave his flesh, could feel it sticky and hot and damning with every muscle movement.

 _Oh God, oh Jesus, oh God_ \- his mind kept wailing, over and over and over again as he saw the men's dying, contorted faces in his mind's eye. It wasn't shooting to save his own hide, it was murder; cold-blooded, low-down, dirty murder committed at the edge of his own blade. And he couldn't swallow the damn sensations away or even stave them off enough to do what he was supposed to be doing.

"Fuck," he hissed, vision blurring as he struggled in vain to fix the jammed shotgun. A bullet whizzed close to his shoulder, whistling in the air. "Jesus, fuck, fuck-"

Another shot too close for comfort, but it wasn't really him they were shooting at- he wasn't the main source of their conflict just yet. He wasn't running between tents with dual revolvers blazing, tearing through the men like they were paper dolls. Jun was good, but his rounds had to be running low with the constant firing.

His shotgun was still jammed, and his vision was red. "Jesus, fuck-"

\--

Nearly all of them were shooting in Matsumoto's direction, who was increasing his kill count like it came naturally, which gave Nino a few good, clear shots to take some down. Sakurai, the damn useless bastard, hadn't gotten a single shot off yet- and he was right in the damn thick of things, standing between two tumbling tents.

And then Jun's revolvers silented as the empty chambers clicked open.

"Sho!" Nino hollered. Jun was nearby, but the sheriff was closer. "Sho, cover him!"

There were more men from the cave, dashing into the pale moonlight with more guns, more weapons, more to fire at. They were going to be rapidly outnumbered, especially with Jun re-loading his revolvers at the same time.

"Sho!"

And Sakurai just stood there, fumbling with his weapon with wide, terrified eyes.

They had clear shots at Jun, all of 'em- every damn one that came from the cave. They weren't great with their whiskey-addled eyesight but- one was solid. One was awake and sturdy and pointing his shotgun straight ahead.

_No. No, no, no-_

He didn't really think about it. He didn't form the thought all the way through, didn't let the possible repercussions cloud his thoughts, he just did it. Nino dropped his gun and ran like there was a twister on his heels and lunged at Jun with both hands out in front of him, knocking the gunslinger to the sand.

And when the pain exploded through his torso, it was so strong he couldn't fight against the blackness that enveloped him.


	9. Chapter 9

It had been meant for him. That shot had been meant for him, and yet there was Nino, lying in the dirt, his life slowly leaking out. Where had he been hit? There was no time.

“Sho! Hurry up!”

Jun hurriedly reloaded his revolvers, shots whizzing past his ears, and he finally heard the shotgun blast he’d been waiting for. Too bad it had taken Ninomiya getting shot for the sheriff to join the firefight. Sho was firing at close quarters, and his aim was good enough to send a bunch of the staggering, sleepy gunmen flying.

He quickly joined in, sending more targeted shots off to the few still coming from the tents. “Cover me!” he screamed, trusting that Sho would just keep firing now that he’d started. There were half a dozen bodies now between him and Ninomiya. He crawled over the corpses to Nino, who was moaning low in his throat and clutching at his shoulder. Well, now he and the saloon owner would have a matching set of scars.

“Mendoza,” Nino was mumbling, going in and out of consciousness. There was no way they could retreat, not without finishing what they’d started. Jun tore at his shirt, ripping the fabric in haste. He balled it up and stuck it between Nino’s blood-soaked hand and the wound.

“Pressure. Keep pressure on it. We’re going to finish this.”

Ninomiya could only groan in pain as a response. One of the men around him who hadn’t died yet was tugging on Jun’s ankle. It was a waste of a round that belonged between Mendoza’s eyes, but he wasn’t entirely merciless. He pulled the trigger, ending the man’s suffering and hurried to his feet.

Sho was still holding off the remaining few outside, but they had to go for the big boss. As Sho reloaded his own weapon, Jun ran off, praying there’d be some lanterns inside the cave to guide him. Thankfully, there were a few. He dodged barrels of loot, squeezing around corners in his search.

“Wait,” he heard from behind him. It was the sheriff. “Don’t let me lose sight of you! Jun, wait!”

But there was no time to wait. A man was bleeding out. A man who’d wanted him dead for years, but he’d still saved his life. He owed it to Ninomiya to finish the job. One drunken gunman came around the corner, screaming for Mendoza. Jun fired before the man could finish saying his boss’ name, and he stepped over the body, not stopping.

The cave floor kept going down, and the temperature cooled as Jun descended further inside. Two men, three…then four went down. Mendoza was running out of inebriated fools for him to kill. The cave curved around, and he stopped to take a breath. Couldn’t be much more left.

Hurried steps behind him. Sho had finally caught up. He checked the chambers. He had three rounds in the left, two in the right. Would it be enough? He didn’t care, steeling himself to face the big man himself. This was for Ninomiya.

\--

He’d managed to knock over a barrel of gunpowder on his way after Jun. It was clinging to the blood on his pant legs, and he was probably leaving a trail after him. Hopefully nobody from outside had followed them in, intent to corner them. Didn’t Jun ever think about things like that?

His mind was muddled, and all he could see were the terrified eyes of the men he’d just killed. Begging him to show mercy. And then he’d been useless, unable to help Jun, so Ninomiya had taken the bullet instead. Jun was never going to forgive him for not doing his part, and now one of them was outside, lying in a pool of his own blood. It was all his fault.

Jun was just getting ready to turn around the last corner. Mendoza had to be there. Sho said nothing. He knew Jun could hear him coming. As soon as he was there, Jun took off from his hiding spot, and Sho heard Mendoza curse in Spanish. He hurried after Jun, who’d only sent off one shot thus far.

He followed Jun around the corner, seeing Mendoza alone on the other side scrambling with some strong boxes. Was he stupid enough to try and escape with his money and stolen jewels? Sho ducked back behind the corner as Mendoza fired off an errant shot with a revolver of his own. No, he couldn’t hide. He’d hesitated enough and Nino was going to die if he didn’t help Jun now.

Jun fired another shot, and just as Sho rounded the corner, another of Mendoza’s shots hit the cave wall just inches from his head. A close call, and one he couldn’t allow the gang leader to have again. He gave chase, only now realizing that Mendoza had disappeared. He watched Jun disappear behind some Indian woven blanket hung on the wall. So the boss had an escape route and hadn’t bothered to inform any of his now dead companions? Some leader.

“Jun, wait!”

He heard Jun’s revolver go off a third time, and he ran past the strong boxes, yanking the blanket down and finding a narrow passage cut into the cave wall. An alternate way out…but where would it lead? He heard Mendoza’s screaming echoing off the walls. Begging them to let him go, and then Jun was firing again in the darkened corridor.

“He said to light the fire!” Mendoza was shouting as they chased him. “He paid in full! He said destroy the town! I didn’t want no part of you any more!”

Who? Who had paid off Mendoza? “You’re lying!” Jun cried. “You’re not getting away this time!”

“I swear! I ain’t going to Rapid Springs, oh Dios, please!”

Sho could tell the path was on an incline. They were heading back up to the surface. “Jun, stop! He has information we need. Jun!”

The sound was almost deafening as Jun sent off another shot. This one hit, but Mendoza was still running. “He said light it! It wasn’t me, it’s him you want!”

“Who?” Sho demanded. Mendoza made it to the end of the cave and turned suddenly, revolver raised in his shaking fist. Was Jun going to fire?

“It was Nagase!” Mendoza declared, and Sho saw his finger on the trigger. He dove forward without thinking, pulling Jun down as Mendoza’s desperate shot ricocheted off the cave wall.

“I’m out,” Jun muttered. “I’m out! Get him!”

\--

There’d been groans all around him, and whatever cloth Jun had given him was already sticky and damp in his hand. He wanted to sleep and forget all of this, forget the way his body was aching. The pain was sharp on his left side, near his shoulder. He didn’t want to move, but he had to. He couldn’t let Jun and his little sweetie take all the credit for bringing Mendoza’s gang down.

He turned onto his right side, a fresh burst of pain shooting down the other half of his body, and he cried out. “Son of a bitch!” Now that he didn’t have the cloth clamped down, his wound was going to bleed like a stuck pig. There might still be guys in the cave, coming out, going in. He had to get them.

It was stupid to have thrown his gun away, but Nino hadn’t been able to control himself as he knocked Jun out of the way. He was paying for it now, but it was the story of his life wasn’t it? There were bodies all around him, dead or dying, and he wasn’t planning to be one of them. Not yet. Feeling a hot bullet pass through his flesh made him realize that he wasn’t as suicidal as he’d originally planned.

One of the bodies to his left had a revolver still holstered. The bastard had been so confused and surprised by their attack that he hadn’t had a chance to take it out. He could only move so fast, crawling on his belly, feeling the life draining drop by drop. Focusing was getting more and more difficult. His body wanted to quit, to make him fall unconscious to deal with the pain. But Nino was used to pain, wasn’t he?

Lifting his left hand, his usual hand, for the man’s holster was a mistake and he knew it. It was like hot fire racing through his veins. Idiot, he cursed himself. You stupid idiot. He grabbed for the gun with his right hand, wheezing and ready to black out.

They’d tried to make him write with his right hand in school, back when he’d actually gone to school. He’d get a slap each time he tried to raise his chalk with his left hand. The thought propelled him forward, fingers closing around the gun and removing it from the dead man’s holster.

There was shouting and swearing from inside the cave, getting closer. He knew that voice. The pain throbbed, but his mind took over. His vision was blurring as he rolled onto his back, hissing as he tried to lean to look up. He held out the revolver, the weight of it in his right hand unfamiliar and strange.

“It was Nagase!” He heard a shot fire back into the cave, and he aimed at the back of the man who’d shouted. It was Mendoza. The man turned around, gun still smoking, and he ran. But he hadn’t counted on one of the bodies on the ground firing at him.

The trigger felt strange under his finger, but it was now or never. He wasn’t used to this arm, and the force of it flattened him. He let go of the revolver, hearing the other man groan between him and the cave. Nino took a deep breath, blinking at the stars above him.

He saw Sho’s panicked face, sharp jabs of pain as the man tried to stop his wound from bleeding. “Nino! Nino, stay with me.”

“Mendoza…is he?”

“He’s dead. You got him.”

He smiled, feeling his eyes fluttering a bit. “Good.” And then he knew nothing at all.

\------

Jun stared down at Mendoza's crumpled, still warm form and kicked at him a bit with the toe of his boot, just to make sure. Dead alright; blood foam was still bubbling on his lips. He reached down and grabbed the revolver from the dead man's fingers. There were still some rounds left, and he was out- last thing he wanted was more trouble, after they'd done what they set out for. But there was a coiling in his stomach, low and hard and hot. Mendoza hadn't been the one behind the fire, he'd been paid.

Dammit. Jun had known it, known it all along that Nagase wouldn't let him go. Hadn't even been his fault the cattle spooked and man, but he was a dead man. He'd stayed 'round Rapid Springs and been the last fiber in the town's noose. The guilt felt worse when it compounded with all the rest he carried around on his shoulders, and he gave Mendoza's side another mean-spirited kick just because he could. Dammit.

"Jun!" came the cry from outside the cave, strangled and warbling. "Jun!"

Shit, Ninomiya. And Sho was out there with his hands pressed against the saloon owner's shoulder like his own fingers could stop the flow of life. Jun ran out to where the two were, Sho leaning over Nino's still form. Too-still. Too, too still, and the revolver he'd used to hit Mendoza square in the chest was lying in the sand next to his stained hand.

"Let me see," Jun said, pushing past Sho rougher than he needed to. His hands were moving without volition- the man had taken a bullet for him, least Jun could do was make sure he came out okay. But Nino's breathing was shallow, and his shirt was soaked through.

Next to him, Sho shifted on his knees in the granules. "He gonna make it?"

"Not here," Jun said, tearing more off the bottom of his shirt. In strips, he could wind it around Nino's upper arm and try to keep the life inside; the man's blood was hot and red even under the moon. Around him there were men groaning, slowly dying out on the sands, but he couldn't spare them a glance. There was one body he wasn't gonna let grow cold, and he'd be damned if he left Ninomiya there to join the gang boys.

He jerked the man upright, and was rewarded with a groan of pain- it was good. It was a reaction, at least, and that much was a good sign.

"What now?" Sho was asking, scurrying to his feet. There was something haunted in his eyes that reflected in the starlight, but Jun didn't have time to him- sheriff didn't seem to be hurt that he could see, so he fell away from Jun's peripheral vision. Had to focus; had to get Nino someplace they could find help. Rapid Springs was way too far a ride, and the man would be dead before the following nightfall.

"Cooks Peak is north of here," Jun answered, half-dragging, half-carrying Nino towards the Express station where the horses were hitched. The saloon owner's boots drug in the sand, making lines that trailed behind them like tracks of blood. "We go north and get him to the doc there. Ain't got time to go anywhere else now."

Nino was heavy, but maybe it was just that Jun's shoulders were screaming already. Been a long time since he rode with an injured man on the saddle with him.

"But he's gonna be alright?"

Sho was scared, and it was obvious, but Jun just didn't have time for it. "I dunno."

"You dunno?" Sakurai got in his face just 'fore they reached the post, eyes wide, and Jun brushed him aside with his shoulder, propping Nino up against the wall as best he could. The barkeep's cheek hit the wood and he groaned again, eyelids fluttering. They didn't open all the way, but he mumbled something into the grains, and then fell silent once more, shoulders slumping. Jun grabbed for the reins and spun them back around the post, freeing his mare.

"I'm not a fortune teller," he snapped, feeling guilty even as the words left his mouth. "But I ain't gonna let him die if I can do anything about it."

Ninomiya was getting heavier, but Sho seemed to finally get the hint and helped Jun get him up into the saddle. He swayed and slumped, but at least stayed upright. Jun dug his heel in the stirrup and swung his own weight over, arms going 'round Nino's limp form. Felt like he was holding a rag doll, loose and lifeless in his arms. It wasn't a particularly pleasant thought.

The leather straps were smooth against his hands.

"North," he said again. "Just follow me and don't stop for nothing."

When his spurs dug in, his mare took off into a canter across the dunes. They had hours before sunrise still, but if they could get to Cooks Peak before the orange orb peeked over the ridges on the horizon, Ninomiya stood a chance. Jun's arm tightened unconsciously around the man's form; Nino was mumbling again, murmuring something low that was too garbled from pain to decipher.

"Stupid bastard," Jun hissed, kicking his heels again. "Stay alive, you stupid bastard."

They didn't see anything else on the ride towards Cooks Peak. No horses, no cavalry, not even snakes sliding through the sands in the coolness of night. The pounding of their mounts' hooves against the dunes were the only sounds against their ears, and it was at least enough to help Jun block out thoughts of Nagase's stolen pistol and blood-stained jacket. He didn't want to think 'bout the ex-confederate; he knew what Nagase was capable of. He knew, and Rapid Springs had been just another example of it, and it was his fault, the whole lot of it.

Now Ninomiya's blood was wet against Jun's arm, and that was Jun's fault, too.

Cooks Peak broke out on the horizon just as the sky started to streak with pink. It spurned Jun onward, making his breath catch in his throat. His mare was slick with sweat and panting against the bit, but she ran like the wind was on her heels until they skidded onto the dusty main drag of town between the buildings settled on the hills.

"Where?" Sho gasped, when his horse pulled up beside them, stamping. "Where now?"

"Find the doc," Jun ground out through clenched teeth. His left arm supporting Nino's dead weight had gone numb, sending sharp shocks through his shoulder. Sho dropped from the saddle and did as he was told with a quickness to his step that Jun was thankful for. He didn't care how many doors the sheriff had to bang on; he had a badge, and that would give them enough standing to merit immediate attention. Cooks Peak wasn't a place for the meek- but they didn't have much choice, and if they were lucky, that shiny star on Sakurai's lapel would get them what they needed.

He tried shaking Nino awake, but got only a sigh and another moan of hazy pain. He had to keep the man from bleeding out, and the threads wrapped around his injury were red.

There were footsteps to his right, and Sho came back, breathless.

"Got a doc," he said. "Back near the saloon, he's got a shack there."

Like the rest of the mining hopefuls, then, but it was better than nothing. Jun clicked his tongue and urged his horse forward towards the direction Sho had pointed. He would have found the doc's place even without the man himself waving at him from the doorway. Dismounting, he grabbed for Nino's body 'fore it could fall straight off the saddle into the dirt.

"Bullet?" the doc asked.

"In the shoulder," Jun answered, hauling Nino towards the open doorway. "Don't think it's too bad but we had to ride here. He's lost blood."

The doctor put a hand to the barkeep's forehead, frowning. "Hot. Get him inside."

Behind him, Sho tied both horses to the post with quick, even knots. When he was done, he slid his arm around Nino's other side to help get the injured man inside the shack. The doc's place was dingy, dark, and- well, a far cry more optimistic than the damn desert would have been. Ninomiya had better chances under the scalpel than under the midday sun.

The doctor had them lay Nino's form on the table, and Jun felt oddly helpless letting go and stepping back.

"Doc," he said, stumbling over the words. When the man turned to look at him, he couldn't think of anything he wanted to say. "Just- just save him."

"I'll do what I can," the doctor replied.

And then all they could do was watch and pray.

\-----

The exhaustion crept up all at once and pounced with alarming accuracy; all of a sudden, it felt like a struggle just to pull air into his lungs. It wasn't hot yet but it felt like every part of him was on fire, and they were just sitting outside a run-down shack in a town that hadn't seen a better day yet, full of criminals and miscreants and God only knew what else. They were on the edge of civilization, on the very edge of the map where everything collided and blurred together, and Sho couldn't find his damn footing in the sand.

He didn't even know where his blade had gone. Jesus, he didn't want to know where he'd dropped it; the damned thing was stained with blood that no scrubbing was ever gonna get clean. His hands were the same way, and he could still see flecks of dried crimson on the rough ridges of his knuckles, hardened by the air and sand. He'd drawn a knife across sleeping men's throats and left them gasping for air and finding only death, a slow suffocation as they bled out onto their own sleeping mats.

Jun was a hand span away from him and the gunslinger didn't say a word. Didn't say a single thing, just sat with his lip between his teeth and his gaze far past the buildings at the bottom of the granite. No offered hand, no advice; just silence and thoughts that were obviously still locked within the doctor's shack behind them.

There was anger bubbling in Sho's chest. Anger that he'd allowed himself to fall so far from the code of law, of ethics, of morality- Boston felt like a lifetime away, back in a world where there was civility and decency. He was angry that he'd strayed, angry that the blood on his hands was real, and angry that the man sitting next to him didn't say a damn thing about it. He needed something whispered in his ear, that things would get better, and it was silent.

There was only the wind whistling past his senses, breeze cool in the sunrise.

Sho rubbed his hands together, rough pads of his thumbs grazing across hardened skin. He thought he should say something- shouldn't he? Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at Jun, but the other man hadn't even moved save for the shallow hitching of his breath.

Out beyond their boots, the town was stirring a bit. Men woke hoping that that day would be their lucky one, their break, their ticket out; Sho hadn't the heart to tell them that it ain't never coming. They'd spend their whole lives toiling for some unobtainable dream, and maybe if they were lucky, they'd end up with the torn throat he could offer them. Seemed to be all he could give at the moment- a swift cut and the gurgle of death.

Jun's fingers were tapping out a nervous rhythm against his knee. Sho let his head fall into his hands- why did it suddenly feel like there was a whole desert between them?

Even when Sho moved, the man next to him didn't glance over; the beating of his fingertips increased in speed a bit, popping against his kneecap. The silence hanging between them was almost as unbearable as the screaming in Sho's thoughts, the images of the men's dying faces that hung before his mind's eyes and refused to dissipate.

Sho opened his mouth, and then closed it. When his brain had finally come up with something decent to say, he tried opening his jaw again, only to have the door to the doc's place swing open. Doctor himself stepped out, shirt covered in splotches of red.

"He's sleepin'," he announced, before either of them could ask.

Jun rose with an exhale of breath so audible Sho picked it up from his still seated position.

"Thanks," the gunslinger said. "Thanks, Doc."

He stepped inside the building without a glance backwards, and when his footsteps faded, Sho just sighed into his palms, wishing he could disappear. Wishing things were different, better- uncomplicated. Simple, like they used to be back home, even if he felt stifled in the crowded, tree-lined roads.

He didn't think he could ever go back there, not with the blood on his hands. Not anymore.

\------

If only he could have slept longer. As he stirred, the butcher this town called a doctor was hovering over him, eyeing Nino through his dusty lenses. “Seen worse, boy.” He twisted the stray hairs of his mustache and dared to laugh. He had Doc Ogura’s bedside manner. Or maybe all doctors out here had a similar attitude. “Nothin’ but a spider bite.”

Well, it sure hadn’t felt like a spider bite when the bullet hit him. Unless the spider was fifty feet tall. He blinked, looking down at his body. He’d been stripped to the waist, although most of his upper half was covered in some bandaging. His whole left side felt stiff, as if the doctor had shot him up full of something to numb him. But maybe his nerves on that side were just dead. It wouldn’t surprise him.

“Thirsty,” he croaked, and his throat felt as dry as the sandy dunes back at Mendoza’s camp. Mendoza was dead. It was over now, wasn’t it?

The doc laughed again. “I bet you are. Lost a good deal of blood. I’ll get your friends. I need to sleep.”

He was alone then, sprawled across the table and helpless. Maybe the doc was fucking with him. Maybe Sho and Jun had just left him behind. But before he realized it, Matsumoto was standing behind him, holding a cool glass of water beside his cheek, close enough that Nino groaned at the droplet that fell from the glass and onto his skin.

“How did you get here so fast?”

Jun only laughed, the same strange tone like the doctor. What the hell was going on? He couldn’t move. Sure, it hurt like a bitch, but he should still be able to move, shouldn’t he? It was like his spine had shattered, and he couldn’t even get his toes to wiggle.

“I died, didn’t I?” Matsumoto kept teasing with the water, not uttering a word. He moved the glass along Nino’s cheek again, dragging the moisture up past his temple. “Stop it. Give me a drink already.”

It weirded him out something awful when Jun stuck his finger in the water glass, dribbling a few drops along Nino’s lips. But he was so damn thirsty that he ran his tongue along his mouth quickly before his chapped lips absorbed it all. “Like seeing me like this, huh? Poetic justice or something, Matsumoto?”

“Weren’t supposed to give him nothing.”

Sho’s voice was somewhere near the foot of the table, at Nino’s legs that he couldn’t feel any more. He tried to move his head a little, but he hadn’t even heard the sheriff enter. “Get out, Sakurai. You got me shot.”

Jun was flicking drops of water on Nino’s face, torturously slow, and most of them weren’t anywhere close to his lips. He’d been mean to the sheriff and the gunman, but he was shot. Didn’t that count for nothing? “Doc said he could have water,” Jun said, his voice laced with some kind of black humor Nino wasn’t finding too amusing.

“Well? How about it?” he complained, still trying to move. Jun merely set down the glass on some other table in the room, if the sound of something scraping on wood was any indication. “Hey. I took a bullet here, don’t be inhuman now.”

He felt Jun’s rough palm pat his cheek like he was some child. “Talk too much.”

“And I’ll holler too if you don’t give me a drink.” It was weird. How long had they been here? How long had the Doc been fixing him? The candle light in the room was making everything hazy, as if everything had a glowing halo around it. Granted, all he had to look at was the hanging lights on the ceiling, only half of which were lit.

The numbness he’d felt throughout his body seconds earlier disappeared in a flash as he suddenly felt Sakurai’s hand on his thigh. Sensation shot down to his toes as the man’s hand ran along his trousers, treading dangerously close to places that weren’t his to claim. “What...what are you...”

His eyes were going to pop out of his skull as cracked, but full lips pressed against his own. He wanted to bite, to scream at Matsumoto for it, but the hot hand on his leg and the mouth brushing against his were sending his already addled mind reeling. What the hell were they doing? Was this some revenge they’d plotted? He couldn’t see the sheriff fighting this dirty, not in a hundred lifetimes.

And in the same flash of time that had suddenly brought Sho to the foot of the table, the sheriff’s fingers were at his belt buckle. He was hard - when had the dull throb in his nethers gone to a full blown need? “This ain’t funny,” he managed to mumble before  Jun had his face roughly between his hands, forcing the breath from him with a demanding kiss. The gunslinger’s fingers moved lower, gripping his neck, squeezing enough to leave Nino gasping. But as soon as he was choking, Jun’s fingers disappeared.

It was all happening in a blur. Wasn’t the doc right in the other room? Maybe he really had died, because this couldn’t be real. Jun’s fingers were running along the bandaging, and where it should have hurt, the feather light touches were instead sending waves of pleasure through him. Damn them. Jun’s breath was hot above the bandaging, finding flesh that wasn’t covered and darting his tongue across it.

“Jun, wait,” he said, desperate for the gunman as much as he was for water. Where had all this come bubbling from? Had Mendoza’s man shot the sense as well as the blood out of him? But his attention went back between his legs where Sakurai had his belt and his trousers undone and was teasing him, bringing his soft fingers along Nino’s length. The hell was happening here?

“You like when we fight back, don’t you?” Jun’s voice came beside his ear at the same time the sheriff took him in his mouth. Nino couldn’t stifle a cry at the sensation. But he didn’t get a chance to catch his breath as Jun forced his tongue between Nino’s lips, demanding and simply taking what he wanted.

The sheriff that Nino knew wasn’t the type to know what he was doing between another man’s legs, was he? But he was taking Nino’s cock into his mouth in a feverish rhythm, seemingly deeper each time. He desperately pulled his mouth away from Jun’s, body feeling a different kind of pain than a bullet wound should have been giving him. “Water, give me the damn water.”

Sho was humming now, as if he was in Pastor White’s church singing Amazing Grace with the whole congregation, and the added sensation up and down his length brought Nino over the edge. He came hard with Jun running his fingers along his lips. “Stop, oh god, you’ve gotta stop,” he breathed as Sho’s mouth vanished from between his legs.

Jun was gone suddenly, and Sho was at his side. How had they moved so fast? Sho had that damn star of his in his hand, and Nino felt it tap along his jaw line. The gleaming metal was cool, while the sheriff’s breath was burning hot at his earlobe. Nino’s toes curled in his boots as Sho’s laughter rang in his mind. “Jun, you ain’t getting him water, are you?”

Nino saw Jun’s hand come down, the fingers curling in Sho’s hair. “Man took a bullet for me. Water’s a thanks, isn’t it?” The glass was back by his lips, the precious liquid dribbling down his chin as Jun tipped it forward.

“Man’s an invalid,” Sho said, but his voice was so low Nino could barely make it out. “That left hand’s just a decoration now.”

“Fuck off.”

Matsumoto laughed. “He still has a right hand.” Nino felt Jun move alongside the table, picking up Nino’s hand in his own. “Gonna need to get him used to usin’ it.” Nino gasped as Jun pressed their clasped hands against the front of his trousers. Jun was hard, and in another one of those crazy flashes, the trousers were open, and Nino’s hand was moving up and down Jun’s length.

“How did-”

“Sssh,” the sheriff whispered, pulling his face close and kissing him with far more aggression than Nino was accustomed. Sho bit and sucked alternately at Nino’s bottom lip, pleasure and pain mingling as he listened to Jun’s frenzied breaths. He ached again,  the need between his legs returning. Had it been minutes or hours since they’d started? He was fading in and out, his senses overloading.

Jun was so hard in his grasp, and Sho was tugging at his bandaging. “Don’t,” he begged. “Don’t. Got shot there, don’t undo...”

Sho obeyed, but all too well, disappearing from Nino’s side, and he managed to crane his neck enough to find that the sheriff was now behind Jun, tipping the man’s head back and devouring the other man’s mouth. Jun groaned, and Nino increased his pace of his own volition as Sho ran his hands up and down Jun’s arms.

He felt Jun come, his satisfied moans muffled by Sho’s mouth. Nino’s stomach was sticky and wet, and he just wanted one of them to pay attention to him once more. “I need...need...I...”

The pleasurable feelings seemed to vanish, and his head ached. Jun and Sho broke apart, staring at him. But it was like he was falling, through the table and down down down. The other two were so far now. He was numbing up again. No, he was finally feeling good. After so long, so many years without her...

And then she was there, standing alone at his bedside. Jun and Sho were gone.

Her touch was feather light along his chin, her pinky finger tip giving the birthmark on his chin a poke the way she always had. “Kazu, I’m sorry.” She was a blur of curls and floral perfume oil. “I’m so sorry.”

Her name was on his lips as he opened his eyes, feeling fresh pain ricocheting up and down his left side. Fuck. The lights weren’t blurred. No, everything had a perfect clarity. This was the real world now, wasn’t it? He blinked back hot tears in his eyes at the pain, physical and in his mind. He looked to the side and wanted to pinch himself.

Jun was in a chair at his side, asleep. Well, he told himself, at least he wasn’t holding a water glass. The sheriff was nowhere in sight, and all the better. The dream was already fading in his mind, although there were some bits that weren’t going to leave him any time soon.

He could have announced that he was awake. He could have made any kind of complaining remark. He could have spat at Jun’s face. But he couldn’t. Nino simply kept his eyes open, whole body aching all too realistically, watching Jun keep his vigil.

The business intertwining and twisting the three of them together - the knots were getting tighter, and soon enough they were gonna snap.

\-------

Sho hadn't said a word since they'd left Cooks Peak. And Nino, horseless, was riding along in Jun's saddle again with wrappings all over his arm and shoulder, which just added extra weight Jun wasn't used to cantering with and threw off his usual sense of balance. It was going to take longer, in any case, to get back to Rapid Springs than it had taken to leave her, and with the odd tension in the air, the atmosphere Jun couldn't read, the hours seemed infinitely stretched.

The sun was hot even under the brim of Jun's hat, and he wiped the sweat away from his forehead with the back of one hand, clicking at the mare a bit. It was useless to try and increase her pace- Ninomiya's weight was added strain, and if she threw a shoe or sprained an ankle, they were all but stranded in the middle of the desert.

The mare sped a little, into an odd, short, loping trot, and then slowed down again, but not before Jun heard Nino's hissing intake of breath. The uneven gait was jostling his injured arm.

"Sorry," Jun mumbled.

"Can't you keep this damn thing steady?" the barkeep shot back, but it lacked his usual bite; there was still that unreadable underlying emotion there that was keeping him from reaching his usual malice. Maybe it was gratitude for coming after him- Jun didn't know.

Jun let the reins slide a bit through his fingers. "I- should thank you."

Nino was silent for so long Jun thought perhaps the other man hadn't heard him, but then he shifted in the saddle, hands gripping the horn very near to Jun's hands on the leather strips.

"Guess you should," he replied. His voice was low- Jun was close enough to the man's head to hear him, but Sho, riding a few feet away, wouldn't be able to pick up a thing. There was a pang in Jun's chest, a tightening, but he couldn't focus on the sheriff's insecurity while trying to pay attention to everything else. There was an ex-confederate mad-man on their tails, and Nagase seemed to be one step ahead of them the whole damn time. There had been enough killin' and carnage because of Jun already; he wasn't fixin' to have there be any more.

They rode a bit longer in silence, dust kicking up behind the mare's hooves.

"Why did you do it?" Jun asked.

Nino shifted again, and this time one of his hands crept up to finger the bandages under the thread of his shirt. "Gotta kill you myself, right?"

Jun didn't answer, but his muscles coiled unconsciously.

"Figure I still owe you that," Nino continued. "Wouldn't be fair of me to let some toothless Mexican dog take my kill, would it?"

"Mm," Jun replied.

"This doesn't mean nothing," the other man said, and there was finally some heat to his tone. "You hear me? Doesn't mean nothing."

There was a hiss from the sands to his right- rattlesnake, coiled and ready to strike. Had to have been lying in the shade of one of the larger rocks. Jun's mare half-bucked in surprise and kicked out- almost hit the snake, and it backed off, but she was spooked. She took off across the sands and Jun instinctively threw an arm around Nino's waist to keep him on. The other man didn't have the stirrups for support like Jun did, didn't have the saddle conformed to fit his legs, and even though he had them, Jun was having a hard time keeping his balance on the bolting horse. He got her under control a few moments later, but the damage was done.

"Don't," Nino gasped, and his fingers were tugging at Jun's arm to loosen it.

"Sorry," Jun replied, cross. He clicked his tongue at his horse a few times, murmuring to her, and behind them, Sho was catching up, checking back in the dust for the offending reptile.

"Just don't," the saloon owner repeated, voice sounding a bit strangled.

"The hell is wrong with you?" Jun asked. "That bullet tear up more than just your shoulder or somethin'? Christ."

"You okay?" came Sho's call, as he pulled up beside them with a flick of the reins. "Fourth rattler I've seen out here today. We gotta be careful, or they'll get a clear shot at one of the horses."

Nino's fingers were digging into Jun's skin as he tried desperately to remove Jun's hold around his middle. The man was almost drawing blood, and it stung. "Let go."

Jun did, wincing at the crescent-moon shaped indentations that graced his forearm.

"Try to stick clear of the shadows," he told Sho, over his shoulder. "Rattlers keep to 'em this time of day. We're halfway there by now."

"Just passed the north bluff," the sheriff said. He pointed off behind them with one finger, but the action seemed half-hearted. Between his moroseness and Ninomiya's bizarre mood swings, Jun half-wished he'd just spot Nagase on the horizon with a muzzle aimed at his chest. Get the whole damn thing over with. He couldn't even pretend to figure out what knots were winding up 'round them all, and it was giving him a headache.

Jun could feel Nino's hitching breathing against his chest.

"The hell?" he mumbled, mostly to himself, and didn't really care if the other man heard him. He had half a mind to rail at the two of them, but it wouldn't help much- would probably just make everything worse. He was itchin' to just drop them in Rapid Springs and go, clear his head for a few days alone in the sand, but that probably wouldn't help, either. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, and he was so damn sick of the unreadable tension he could just quit the whole thing.

He yanked the reins harder than was necessary, turning to face the sheriff again.

"When we get there, you go talk to Aiba," he said, and it was far more demand than suggestion. "You do what you need to do, report all good-boy like, and then, you come find me."

"Could you please plan your rendezvous while I am not within hearing distance?" Ninomiya complained, but his tone still seemed a bit hoarse, and Jun wanted to smack him. Sho was just staring at him with wide eyes.

"You hear me, sheriff?" Jun asked. It came out harsher than he'd meant for it to, and when he finally deciphered the hooded look in the other man's gaze- well, he felt a little bad. Been awhile since he'd lost so much of himself, hadn't it? Hadn't he been the same way once? Seemed like ages ago, but it was there. He knew the feeling. His anger deflated a bit. "You hear me?"

"Yeah," Sho mumbled, and broke the shared gaze to stare down at his hands.

"Lovers quarrel?" Nino asked.

"Shut up," Jun spat. "You got a free pass cause of that bullet wound in your arm, but I ain't gonna let you use that forever. Enjoy it while you can."

Nino was silent for a long moment, and the gait of both horses evened out.

"Think I will, Matsumoto," he finally replied, but it was very quiet, and Jun couldn't be sure that he heard him.

\-----

Someone saw them coming- who, Sho didn't know, but by the time they reached the main drag of Rapid Springs once more the sun was quickly setting and there was a crowd gathered 'round. A murmur rose when Jun and Nino slowed to a stop- had to be somethin', really, to see the saloon owner looking pale and weak and sharing a damn saddle with the man. But Sho couldn't think about that, couldn't let his thoughts linger- too long they'd already done so, and he was nearly overcome with guilt already.

His hands were trembling even as he dismounted, heels smacking into the dirt.

"All three alive?" a mutter asked near his ear.

"More or less," Sho replied, tangling the reins 'round the post. "Some more than others."

Jun was helping Nino down from the saddle, and the barkeep looked a bit shaky on his own two feet. It gave Sho a sick sense of satisfaction, and that just made him feel worse; he shouldn't be takin' pleasure in the man's pain. Ninomiya saved Jun's life, and Sho- well, Sho owed him for that, didn't he?

Another pang through his midsection, and he swallowed down bile.

"You get 'em, sheriff?" came the next question, loud and echoing and hitting him like a deluge. "You get 'em?"

"Yeah," Sho answered. He wished his tone sounded far more confident than it did. He patted his horse's rump affectionately, unhooking the cinch from the saddle. She'd been running hard without rest, and he didn't want to create sores on her back from the leather. The tack was heavy when he lifted it free, and she shook her head, mane flapping. "Yeah, we got 'em."

The din that rose then was appreciative, like a collective sigh of relief. Sho didn't doubt it- they'd all been living in the fear of Mendoza's shadow. From the corner of his vision, he could see Jun helping Nino up onto the stoop in front of the saloon. Sho sucked in a deep breath, trying to push everything away. The images of the men he'd killed hovered just beyond the faces of Rapid Springs, like the dead waiting for him to join.

He turned from the saloon, from his own doubts and gnawing insecurities.

"You know where I could find Aiba?" he asked the man nearest to him, Williams. He got a nod towards the blacksmith's shop in response.

His boots were dragging by the time he reached the forge, and he could still hear the rhythmic clinking of Aiba's hammer even in the late hour; figured, really, that the deputy was the kind of man to work to dispel troubled thoughts. Sho wondered if he was worried. Aiba'd been a kind soul, and he'd be sad when Sho was gone- right?

Sho's toes stopped just past the bound of the shop, level with the wood beam he needed to step over.

"Aiba?" he called. For some reason, he was unwilling to cross the boundary. It felt like- felt wrong, was what it felt like. His hands were stained and his conscience was black, and he had no right traipsing 'round Rapid Springs like he owned her. He never had, and it was becoming abundantly clear just how much control he lacked. For all his good thoughts and deeds, he was nothing compared to the town. Town threw him aside without a second thought, and would continue livin' on even as the sun desiccated his body.

The hammer within the building stilled. "Sheriff?"

There were heavy footsteps, and then a smile full of teeth as Aiba moved to stand in front of him.

"Aye," Sho replied, heart heavy in his chest. "Back now, deputy."

"And in one piece," Aiba said. He sounded happy. He sounded relieved, and it only twisted the knots further. Sho stared down at his boots to try and dislodge the lump in his throat. "Mendoza?"

"Gone," Sho said, shaky. "Got him. Ninomiya- took a bullet in the shoulder, but he got him."

Aiba's face fell a little. "Nino- he got shot? Is he okay?"

Sho felt infinitely weary, like he could sleep for a lifetime and still be exhausted upon waking. It wasn't pleasant; it was almost tangible weight on his shoulders.

"He'll be fine," he answered. "He'll- be fine."

"What about you?" Aiba asked; he never gave the man enough credit. He was shrewd sometimes, when it counted- when Sho didn't want him to be.

"Fine, too," he lied. In the past few days, the lie off his tongue was the least of his sins.

He turned to leave, because he couldn't handle seeing Aiba's face quirk back up into a relieved smile again. He just wanted to be alone- he wanted to be alone and surrounded at the same time, unable to find just one to cling to. All he wished was for a night of sleep where the world fell away and he was back in Boston without the true nature of the whole damn West lodged in his thoughts. Just one night when he didn't have to deal with it- that was it. One night.

"Sheriff?" the blacksmith asked, as Sho started to move away from the forge.

"Tomorrow," Sho said. "We'll just get everythin' worked out tomorrow."

Maybe Aiba heard whatever it was that was hanging in his tone- Sho didn't know. Didn't rightly care, neither, cause as long as he was left by himself there was that much less he could taint. As he drug his heels through the center drag, he thought how much better Rapid Springs would have been without his bumbling hand muckin' it all up. Been better off without his influence throwin' the whole damn town to the wolves.

He was supposed to find Jun, but the other man was probably still in the saloon taking care of Nino, and Sho didn't want to go there. Didn't want to find Jun, didn't want to have a discussion. He bypassed his station and stumbled down to the dried-out creek bed with the twisted tree, getting to the sharply dropping ridge before his legs gave out completely. He hit the dirt with force that sent pangs through his form and just stayed there, staring out at the wasteland beyond the town borders.

He should leave. He knew he should leave, 'fore anything else got fucked up. He should just go and head out into the desert and let the West do to him what it wanted. If the sun didn't kill him, the coyotes would.

There were footsteps behind him, after some amount of time had passed and the sky was nearly black.

"Sheriff." Jun sounded annoyed- angry. When Sho failed to respond, the footsteps got a bit closer, thudding against packed dirt. "If you're trying to hide from me, you're doing a piss-poor job of it."

Sho wanted to throw his hands over his ears so he didn't have to hear Jun's voice anymore. All it did was elicit more tightening in his chest, more desire in his blood. Maybe he'd kill Jun the same way he killed those men, without mercy. Without pride. He squeezed his eyes shut instead, trying to block out the world.

"Sheriff?" Jun tried again. And then his voice dropped its ire, getting softer. "Sho?"

When he didn't hear anything for awhile, Sho thought maybe the other man had left. Then there was a scuffle behind him, and two arms slipping around his shoulders, hot breath at his ear. Jun's hold was warm and solid and Sho melted into it with a little gasp of breath as everything flew out of his lungs all at once.

"Don't even think about it," Jun whispered. "Don't you dare even think about it."

There were hot trails on his cheeks that he didn't remember crying. "Why not?"

"I told you this means somethin'," was the reply, Jun's breath playing with bits of Sho's hair near his ear. "So don't you dare do that to me. Don't even think it."

The other man's arms tightened to an almost painful level, like he was convinced Sho was going to dash off right then and was fixin' to hold him back by sheer willpower. And Sho didn't mind it, cause the pain was something he could fix his thoughts on, something to focus everything in. It almost felt like something was shattering, bits of glass embedding themselves in his palms.

"Oh, God," Sho gasped. There was a sob lodged in his throat.

"Gonna get better," Jun sighed, chin resting on Sho's shoulder.

"How do you know?" Sho asked, because he couldn't quite believe- couldn't quite let himself.

"Cause you're here," Jun said simply. "You're here, and I'm here."

Sho raised his hand to tangle with Jun's, and the gunslinger kissed his head, his temple, sighing again into Sho's hair. And bit by bit, inch by inch, it felt like maybe the overwhelming desire to throw himself to the vultures was lessening.


	10. Chapter 10

He’d spent the better part of the night and the following morning sleeping, only waking once when Doc Ogura had dropped in to change his bandaging. The pain wasn’t going to go away any time soon.

Nino tried not to remember that day he’d chased Jun out of town. The man had barely been stitched back together when Nino had run in screaming, seeing the fear and guilt in the other man’s eyes as he half-hobbled, half-crawled past the town gate and out of sight. This pain wasn’t unbearable, but it was damn unpleasant. And yet here he was between clean, laundered sheets able to catch up on his rest. He’d left Jun to fend for himself out in the dust.

He grumbled under his breath, leaning back against the pillows. He didn’t need to be thinking about Jun. Not now, not really ever. Nino tried to get back to his fitful sleep, but his mind kept whirring and spinning. All he could do was lay in bed and count the number of spots on his ceiling over and over again.

There was a knock at his door come noon. “Alright, Doc.”

The door creaked open, and the footsteps were less boisterous than the Doc’s. Nino felt his breath catch as Ohno walked in and closed the door behind him. The other man’s eyes were kind as always, and he took a seat at the bedside. “Good to see you,” his friend said quietly, and Nino wanted to strangle him.

“You caused me a good deal of grief, Satoshi.”

The baker nodded. “So I’ve heard.”

Nino scowled, wishing he could move more freely to give the man a slap or an embrace. He was just content with the man’s sun burnt as usual skin and his nonchalant demeanor. For all that Nino was fire and lightning and fervor, Ohno was cool and calm, like snow on a mountain peak. “But it was the sheriff who got me all ripped to pieces.”

Ohno smirked. “Just didn’t dodge quick enough, I suspect.”

“Fire may not have gotten you, Ohno, but I will if you keep up that jokey tone with me,” he replied, smiling big. His pain was ever present, but the throbbing seemed to lighten now that Ohno was around again.

“How long you outta commission?”

“Wish I could tell you.” Doc Ogura had been annoyed to have a gunshot victim to deal with. There was the threat of infection and gangrene and fever. Basically it just meant the man would have to check in on Nino every few hours to make sure he hadn’t croaked, and a man like the Doc usually preferred to spend his evenings sipping whiskey and reading the latest newspapers that reached them from Santa Fe.

Ohno had his hat in his hands, tapping the brim against his thigh. What had it been like to get back, not knowing people had thought you dead? What had it been like to get back and not have a way to make a living any more?

“What are you gonna do ‘bout the shop?”

“Rebuild,” Ohno answered, almost immediately. “Rapid Springs is my home. My nice metal safe, you remember, the one I bought in Tucson? Well, it survived. May have lost all my goods, lost my oven…but I’ve got enough to start over.”

Enough to start over? Ohno practically gave things away when folks were in need – he wasn’t a penny pincher like Nino. He cooked for the whole town when the mood struck, and he always made sure to order sweets for the children. How much could he possibly have saved? But Ohno was of far humbler stock. If anyone had the will and ability to recover, it was probably him.

“The Lord giveth,” Nino mumbled.

Ohno nodded, still tapping his hat. “And he sure as hell taketh away.”

They sat in companionable silence a few minutes longer, and Nino just listened to his friend inhale and exhale, a sound he hadn’t expected to ever hear again. He had enough money stashed…he could help with the rebuilding, couldn’t he? The pain in his shoulder met the mental pain at the thought of spending the money. Well, he’d wait until Ohno asked for help. Nino still had a business of his own to run again now that Mendoza was out of the picture.

He was finally getting tired, now that he’d been able to relax. Ohno didn’t seem to be leaving – he never did, did he? Whenever there was need for him, a need for him to just simply be present, Ohno stayed.

Nino’s eyes were closing, and sleep was gonna claim him quick. Wordlessly, Ohno pulled the blanket up, covering up Nino’s bandaged shoulder. “Don’t go nowhere with Aiba unless you leave a note.”

“I’ll remember that.”

He yawned, settling himself against the pillows. “See to it that you do.”

The business with Mendoza was finished. They were going to rebuild. Rapid Springs would still be a shithole, Nino was pretty damn sure of it, but so long as Satoshi Ohno was baking bread there, it was where Nino wanted to be.

\-----

The town was quiet. Clearly the men were happier with their families back, and a few of the unattached bachelors had headed off for Clearwater again to pick up some staples until Ohno could get back on his feet. In his alarming generosity (or pain-induced stupor), Nino had agreed to house any of Ohno’s pending food shipments in his saloon. But nothing was expected for another few days, so bellies were going to go hungry until the men returned from Clearwater.

Jun was tired, but even with Mendoza gone, their problems were far from over. He had a place in Aiba’s home, no questions asked, but he’d get no solace there. He’d get peaceful snoring and good liquor, but he didn’t need either of those things right now. He climbed the steps to the sheriff station, shocked when he found the door already locked for the night.

Sho’d probably expected him to stay with Aiba, to keep the townsfolk from being curious, but Jun didn’t much care. He knocked, waiting patiently. The next few days were vital if they were going to deal with Nagase effectively. The pieces fit - he’d gone to Nagase’s ranch and the man had been gone. It wasn’t a mystery now. He’d been meeting with Mendoza’s crew, keeping his own hands clean while he squeezed Rapid Springs bloodless.

The sheriff’s eyes were curious as he unlatched the door. Jun simply stood there, hands in his pockets, seeing if the troubled man was going to let him in. The corners of Sho’s mouth quirked up, as if he was almost relieved Jun was there. He stepped back, and Jun entered. Sho bolted the door and went back into the cell where he was scrubbing the floor with a brush.

Jun followed, leaning against the bars as Sho got on his knees and dipped the brush in a bucket of water. He chuckled quietly. “The hell you doing, Sheriff?”

Sho grunted in irritation, running the brush over some dirt Jun couldn’t see. “Cleaning. This place is a sty. Ninomiya really dirtied the place up when he was in here.”

“I see.” He listened to the brush scrape back and forth as Sho concentrated. At least he was doing something, Jun figured. Looking around the room, all of the papers were in perfect piles on the man’s desk, and from the smell of gun oil, the sheriff had also cleaned all of his shotguns. He’d had a pretty busy evening. Better focusing on the mundane than on what had happened with Mendoza’s gang.

Sho wiped his sweaty forehead with the sleeve of his shirt before getting back to his scrubbing. “How is he?”

Well, he’d been busy, but he still knew where Jun had been all evening. Nino had been in and out of sleep all day, so he’d spent the better part of the night playing cards at the saloon with Ohno and Aiba, not like Sho was really interested in that. “Sleeping mostly. Complaining whenever he’s not.”

Sho snorted. “Sounds about right.”

“Yep.” The sheriff tossed the scrub brush in the bucket and got to his feet, back cracking. “Doc says he should be on his feet in another day or so.”

He followed Sho into his room, and he politely turned his head as the man went into his drawers for another pair of those damn pajamas. He heard the man’s boots hit the floor, and the rustling that indicated he was undressing quickly on purpose.

“Don’t have to look away,” Sho mumbled. From the tone in his voice, Jun figured he was still a bit embarrassed. But he was surprised when he felt a bundle shoved into his arms. The sheriff offered him a wry smile. “We’re about the same size. May as well get comfortable.”

“I don’t wear pajamas.”

Sho shrugged, turning down his covers and grabbing one of his books from the dresser. “Suit yourself. Could always cuff you to something again.” Jun sighed, setting the pajamas down on Sho’s table and started unbuckling his belt. “No boots in the bed please.”

They were bein’ downright domestic, and he didn’t want to admit how nice the clean cotton pajamas felt against his skin. Some things from back east weren’t that bad after all. He tossed his clothes on the floor, settling down in the chair while Sho thumbed through the book.

“So Nagase...” Sho said, eyes squinting in the candlelight at the dog-eared pages.

Well, he knew this would be coming. Sho had heard Mendoza’s last shouts just as easily as Jun had. “Fought in the war, not on your side.” Sho rolled his eyes at that. The both of them had been kids then anyhow.

“Got rich with ranching, at least that’s what it looks like on paper. But he’s got his fingers everywhere. At least from Juarez north to Albuquerque and probably has some good friends from Texas to Tucson. Got a long reach. Not gonna be easy to break him.”

Sho turned the page of his book, but Jun had a feeling he wasn’t reading the words any longer. “But ain’t no way business goes on if we take him out.”

Jun laughed. “Kill Nagase? We won’t get close. Won’t make it to his front porch.” But he thought about that - just the other week he’d done that very thing, even walking right into Nagase’s study. But with the slaughter at Mendoza’s, Nagase wouldn’t be too inclined to leave his ranch unguarded.

“We’ll need more than the two of us.”

“Three,” he blurted out without even thinking, and Sho looked over. “Ninomiya’s got an equal stake in what happens, and you know he does. Don’t fight me on that.”

The sheriff shifted on the bed, the springs creaking. “I’m not fighting. I can’t win that one. But the man already took one bullet for you - you’re not going to let him come along to another fire fight so soon?”

“Never said we’re goin’ out there tomorrow.” Nino would never stay behind. But he was in no shape to fight. He was a lefty, and he wasn’t going to be firing so much as a slingshot with that hand for a while.

Sho shook his head. “But if we don’t hit Nagase and hit him now, this town’s at risk. Every day we don’t act is another day my people go hungry, become homeless, lose their lives. That’s a chance they aren’t gonna let me take. Not after what happened to Ohno’s place.”

Jun thought, trying to find some detail he’d overlooked, something about the infamous Nagase that he could exploit. His eyes wandered, catching on the gleaming star on Sho’s dresser, and he smiled. “Sakurai, how much ass kissing did you do in Santa Fe before they shipped your greenhorn hide down here?”

“Enough,” Sho replied, setting his book down on the floor. “Why?”

“Nagase’s the biggest land owner in two hundred miles. You’re a sharp one, Sheriff. You know the law of the land. You could pin something on him, something that’ll get your friends up north interested in investigating.”

Sho sat up straighter, and Jun grinned, seeing the man’s book smarts coming alive. If there was anything that was gonna get the sheriff out of his funk, it was knowing that he was still useful. Sho’s face twisted and contorted as he started mumbling to himself, reciting law codes from memory that Jun hadn’t even known existed. The man had a brain on him, that was for sure.

“Santa Fe doesn’t like to get involved in petty squabbles. Got resources stretched thin as it is,” Sho admitted, scratching his chin. “Could say Nagase’s been cutting deals with the Apaches. Government sure wouldn’t like that. They really get off their asses when it comes to that sorta thing.”

“Okay, so the fed types start poking their noses in Nagase’s business. What then?”

Sho was still talking to himself, and Jun was mesmerized. The confidence, the arrogance - it was returning, but it was far more attractive this time around. Because it might save the town’s collective behinds. “Be hard to prove he’s been dealing with them if we don’t have evidence.”

“Easy,” Jun said. “We do the dealing ourselves.”

“With the Apache?” Sho cried, his voice raising an octave or two. “Are you out of your damn mind?”

“Far from it.” Wouldn’t just be him. Ninomiya knew how to deal with difficult folk. He’d known how to call on Mendoza’s gang. Surely he had a contact or two amongst the Indians in these parts. “They’ll deal in cattle. I worked with Nagase, I know how he does deals. We buy ourselves some stolen cattle. I’ll know the type. The kind they’ll be beggin’ us to buy off of them. We make the trade, you give your friends up north a shout, and they’ll come down on Nagase.”

Sho seemed annoyed. “Don’t much like this plan.”

“It’ll work,” Jun was realizing. “It has to work.” Well-respected landowner knowingly and purposefully buying stolen cattle from the Indians to shore up his own holdings? The government would have that ranch turned upside down before the month was out. Then they’d start poking around in Nagase’s other interests, start asking questions, and the man was up a creek without a paddle.

“And then?” Sho asked, noticing that Jun was keeping his cards close.

“And then when they wanna haul him off to jail, we get him.”

Sho was out of bed and across the room in seconds, shaking Jun by the sleeve of the fancy pajamas. “You’re crazy! We can’t hit a prisoner transport! I’d lose my star!”

Jun leaned close, mouth inches from Sho’s. “That’s why we make sure we’re the ones transportin’ him.”

Sho staggered back. “No way.”

“There’s raiders all ‘round these parts.” He felt the scar on his shoulder itch. “Believe me, your friends won’t be shocked if our caravan is say, ambushed. Saves them the trouble in giving Nagase a trial.” He stood up, stepping forward as Sho stepped back.

Together, the two of them had just plotted the perfect crime. Between Sho’s pretty mind and Jun’s years skirting the law, they’d get Nagase. They’d done it. Together. He was giddy, mind spinning at all the work they’d have to do. But there was a plan. The pieces were on the board and all they had to do was get them in motion.

He pulled Sho to him, unable to quell the fire inside. The other man sighed in exasperation as Jun found his mouth, kissing and biting in his eagerness. The clumsy sheriff’s legs knocked against the bed, and they both fell, landing hard on the mattress. Jun just laughed, reaching for the buttons of Sho’s pajama top.

“You’re a genius, Sheriff. When they write the book on Nagase, I’m gonna tell them historians it was all you.”

Sho reached a hand down, squeezing his ass and raising his own hips up, bringing their bodies closer against each other. “One step at a time. I’m not fixin’ to be no criminal mastermind.”

He kissed his way along Sho’s collarbone, enjoying the sheriff’s strangled noises of approval. “Then maybe you oughta change the company you keep.”

Jun was knocked onto his back, wind knocked out of him, stunned as Sho was suddenly, confidently straddling him. “Don’t wanna change nothing.”

\------

"This plan sounds dangerous," was Nino's immediate response.

"Well- yeah," Sho admitted. He scuffed the toes of his boots across the floorboards a bit, just to add some noise. The bedroom had gone oddly quiet after he'd explained the specifics of the plan he and Jun had come up with. Ohno was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest- he looked decidedly neutral, but the man's face tended to loiter around expressionless whenever he wasn't actively responding to something. Aiba was chewing on his bottom lip with his brow furrowed. Jun hadn't said much, but his presence in the back of the room was that of a stolid guardian, and it made Sho feel better knowing the man was watchin' him. "But I think it might be our best shot at gettin' Nagase; really gettin' him."

"Good," Nino said, and the corners of his mouth quirked up into a malicious grin. "I want him dead."

"Nino," Ohno started, but Nino held up his uninjured hand to stop the baker in his tracks, even as Ohno was moving away from his spot towards the bed.

"Man burnt down your shop," he said. "Went out of his way to pay off Mendoza's pride less gang to try and get rid of us, and I ain't going down without a fight."

"Already had one of those," Aiba pointed out.

"And the bandages to prove it," Ohno said. But the baker seemed appeased for the moment, and resumed his stance leaning back against the wall beams. There was a moment of quiet when everyone seemed to be lost in their own thoughts.

Sho let himself glance towards the back of the room at Jun, who gave him the barest of nods, wisps of his hair brushing over his collar.

"We gotta get the timin' right," he explained. "If Nagase finds out about this, it's all off. We gotta get the feds on his tail as soon as the deal goes down with the cattle. Man's shrewd; didn't get through the war like he did for nothing."

Jun's boots dragged a bit across the floor as he stepped forward. "Got one thing on our side though. He's a damn arrogant bastard, that one."

"And had his hand in every illegal dealin' three counties over," Nino scoffed. "He ain't no saint."

"Which is why when the feds get there, they'll have something to legitimately start a claim over," Sho said. "But we still gotta get the initial dirt to start the whole thing. And that's where everyone else comes in."

"I got the Apache," Nino said, and Sho could practically see the man's brain already whirling. He'd picked up quick- knew where Sho was goin' with the whole thing. Maybe Sho didn't like the man, but he had to give him credit for being sharp; in their situation, they'd need everything they could get. Wasn't gonna let Nagase ram into Rapid Springs til she fell down as dust to the sands. It was still his town, good as the star on his chest.

"And you?" Aiba asked, turning towards Sho with raised eyebrows. "You goin' to Santa Fe, then?"

"Only one who can," Sho admitted.

"I'm going with," Ohno said suddenly, in his calm way. All eyes snapped to him, and Nino already looked irritated, pushing himself with a wince to sit up straighter on the bed, but the baker just shook his head, managing to quiet all the begun outcries. "Need to find some folk to rebuild my store. And Sheriff needs somebody to ride with him."

Gratitude welled in Sho's chest, warm in the back of his throat. It brought a bit of a sting to his cheeks, so he ducked his head. Maybe he'd been the worst thing to happen to Rapid Springs, but it seems her children still cared about him. Ain't no price one could put on having people to trust around.

"That leaves you in charge," Sho said, to Aiba.

"And me to help with the cattle," Jun added, from behind. There was an odd quirk to Nino's mouth then, but the injured man didn't say anything; maybe he was still on edge from the bullet he'd taken for Jun.

Still, it stung a bit to think about ridin' north to Santa Fe without Jun by his side, and Sho swallowed down the wave that followed.

"Won't be too long," he said, mostly for himself- mostly for the man leveling him with a vaguely amused expression. "Just gotta start the inquisition."

"And get the timing right," Nino pointed out from the bed.

"He's right," Jun agreed. "Can't get the whole thing started 'fore we get those cattle on Nagase's land. From there, feds'll find black dealings easy, but that's got to be the first thing they look for, otherwise the claim is shot."

Sho shifted his weight from heel to heel, boots sending creaks through the rickety floorboards.

"I can send a messenger back to Rapid Springs when I get there," he said, slowly, mind whirling. "Once I get in the official channels, it'll only take a few days to get the investigation goin'. And then you can get everything with the Apache off the ground back here."

It wasn't perfect, but it was the best they could do. Sho knew how to win the feds over- how to push the right buttons, play the right cards. He might not know everything 'bout the West yet, but the chain of command- that was something he did understand. Feds in Santa Fe were the same as feds in Boston, only they carried shotguns rather than riot sticks and had pointed stars on their chests.

Aiba was nodding silently, chewing on his lower lip again.

"Don't worry 'bout Rapid Springs, Sheriff," he said, giving Sho a winning smile that the sheriff almost, almost believed. "I got her under control while you're gone."

Sho turned to Jun, still lingering back by the doorway. "You two keep your guard up with those Apache," he warned. "Ain't gonna be easy."

"Tell that to yourself," Nino scoffed. "I've dealt with them before. Just gotta know how to talk to 'em, is all."

"And you're good at that, are you?" Sho shot at him, unable to resist. "That mouth of yours has gotten you in a heap of trouble so far."

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he regretted them; he should have known better than to mention anything that connected Nino and his damn, albeit talented, mouth. The barkeep's mouth stretched a bit, hiding a knowing smile, and Sho ducked his head with heat on his cheeks. But Nino didn't say anything, and for that, Sho was grateful.

Jun cleared his throat, and it almost made everything worse.

"It'll work," the gunman said. "It'll work if we do it right careful and keep to the plan."

It just might. Shaking his head, Sho tried to re-collect his thoughts once more.

"Don't do anything stupid," Nino warned, and even though Sho knew the comment was directed at Ohno- the baker even nodded in response- it still helped to calm his nerves a bit.

"And don't burn Rapid Springs down," Sho said to Aiba, who just laughed and waved his hands.

There was another pause, and Sho took a deep breath. Somehow, the star on his lapel felt heavier than it normally did, weighted. Adding to the burden he still wasn't entirely sure he wanted to shoulder.

"So that's that," he said, and from the bed, Ninomiya gave a curt nod.

"That's that."

\-------

Doc had finally given the go ahead for him to get out of his room, so reluctantly, he’d let Aiba help him down to sit out on the saloon porch out of the sun while the sheriff and Ohno readied the horses for the trip up to Santa Fe. Nino wasn’t going to miss Sho for the next several days, that was for damn sure. But Ohno had definitely been an aid in his recovery, since the baker had no home and had camped himself out in one of the saloon’s rooms for the past few days.

He had to get word out to his contact amongst the Apache. The nearest group had a settlement about fifteen miles southwest of town, and they mostly kept to themselves. The old sheriff had Indian blood, or so he’d claimed, so Chief Coyote Howl (a nickname as far as Nino understood it) had allowed negotiations from time to time. It had been at least a year since he’d chatted with Coyote Howl’s boys, but Rapid Springs had always dealt with them fairly.

Nino knew Coyote Howl’s tribe was in a bad way. The government was coming in left and right these days, moving the native folks around, shuffling families and taking children off to be “civilized.” Most of the items the tribe had for trade wasn’t obtained legally, but so long as they stayed quiet, the territorial bosses in Santa Fe hadn’t interfered. At least not yet.

He had to save his strength if he and Jun were going to head off and try to negotiate a trade by next week. He could have one of the other folks in town ride off with a message for Coyote Howl, but there was no knowing if word would make it off to Nagase. No, he and Jun would have to try and make their deal on the day. Hopefully the Apache would have enough head of cattle they needed to part with. It was a fine time of year to sneak down to Mexico or west Texas and rustle up some animals, so Nino’s hopes were a bit more optimistic than he was accustomed to.

Ohno looked over from his mare, giving him a nod. Rapid Springs would be strange without his friend and without the sheriff. It would be almost too strange and too quiet. Nino could only bob his own head in reply since a nice, friendly wave wasn’t going to do his wound any favors. The thought of being on a horse again was already annoying him. All that jostling was going to leave him aching, and he’d probably be wincing and grimacing in the Chief’s presence.

Maybe he’d let Jun do all the talking. Much as Nino knew how to make deals, he was playing the middleman for this, the connector. He was introducing a business associate representing Nagase’s estate, and Jun would play the part. The Apache weren’t much for gossiping, so if they made the trade and got the cattle up the edge of Nagase’s property within a day or two, hopefully the man himself wouldn’t catch word of it.

But Nino was also scratching his head about the cattle in the first place. The sheriff had made it sound all easy peasy, but moving even ten cattle was a hassle that Nino wasn’t used to. Jun had experience moving them, but Nino didn’t know the first thing about it. Cattle stunk and made lots of noise. They couldn’t just pin a murder on Nagase, could they?

He brought the water glass he had in his good hand to his lips, seeing Jun coming down the street. Nino watched quietly as Jun patted Ohno’s mare on the rump, starting a conversation with the baker that he couldn’t hear from where he was sitting. Sho was strapping a bundle to his horse and mounted up. Nino sipped his water slowly, watching Jun’s eyes drift from Ohno’s to Sho’s.

Ohno had his horse start trotting while Sho and Jun chatted. Nino couldn’t read lips, and he didn’t exactly care to know what little sweet nothings and promises they may or may not have been whispering to one another. His shoulder and arm ached, and he just wanted to go back to his bedroom. He didn’t need his memory flashing to that awful fever dream he’d had in that shitty town when he was getting patched up.

He slowly got to his feet, hearing Sho’s horse take off to follow Ohno. Nino was almost to the swinging doors when he heard boot steps on the porch behind him.

“Need help?”

He paused, tightening his grip on the water glass. “No. Don’t need any help.”

Jun wasn’t leaving, and the gunman followed him into the saloon. There was a shipment of food coming in for Ohno’s non-existent store later that day, and Nino wasn’t looking forward to coordinating that.

“You gotta learn how to use that other hand,” Jun said quietly, and Nino nearly froze. He was thinking about the damn nightmare, remembering how Jun had been sweet talkin’ him and acting all out of sorts.

“I’m fine.”

The gunman sighed. “If we’re working together, our mutual animosity ain’t gonna be the only thing holding us back.” Nino set the water glass down on the bar and turned to face Jun, who just looked weary. “You gotta learn to shoot with that other hand if you’re gonna be of any use when we go after Nagase.”

“And who’ll teach me?” he snapped back. “You?”

Jun nodded. This wouldn’t end well, Nino was sure of it.

\------

It was hot outside the structure of the saloon, even standing near the wall under the shadowy overhang; the midday desert sun wasn't doing them any favors, and had nearly zapped Rapid Springs and her citizens of their strength. But they were running on borrowed time, and they didn't have the choice to sit inside the saloon and drink whiskey like the others. Jun knew this same as Ninomiya did- they had to get to the Apache in accordance with the plan, and Nino wasn't going anywhere 'fore he'd gotten less shaky with a shotgun again.

It was almost painful to watch the man's injured shoulder tremble with exertion as he aimed the muzzle down the dunes and into the bluffs past the expanse. He wasn't used to shooting right-handed, and it wasn't easy to reverse the movements and stay on target, let alone with a still mending bullet hole through one shoulder.

"Higher," Jun said, tapping the bottom of the muzzles. "Aimin' too low."

"I know where I'm aimin'," Nino hissed, but it sounded strained from effort. The barrels swayed visibly as he struggled to keep them steady.

"Won't hit the broad side of a barn," Jun told him. He knew it was unnecessary, but pushing Nino seemed like the best way to keep his drive high. The saloon owner was essential to the plan, and if he went out to the Apache without the ability to shoot- well, things could get right ugly real fast. Needlin' him was the way to keep him angry and trying. Wasn't nice, but it was the most effective resource Jun had.

The shotgun wavered again, and Jun could see beads of sweat on Nino's forehead that weren't entirely due to the hot sun. "Dammit," the barkeep swore under his breath.

"Not easy to adjust to the other arm," Jun said. "So aim higher than normal so at least you ain't gonna be hittin' the sand."

Nino's jaw clenched. Jun could almost see the man's veins popping in irritation. "I know that."

"Just tryin' to help," Jun said.

"Ain't doing much to assist here," Nino shot back. He cocked the hammer with a resounding click and pulled the trigger. The muzzle wavered far too much- Jun knew without looking that Nino hadn't come close to the tree they were aimin' at. From the angered look on the saloon owner's face, he knew it too. He sucked in an audible breath, growling low in his throat. His frustration was so palpable Jun could nearly taste it on the air.

"Fuckin-" Nino started, and was apparently too irate to finish. He didn't let the shotgun fall from his shoulder, and instead hit the hammer with his thumb once more. Another blast from the barrels; Jun could see sand spray into the air where the bullets hit. Still off the mark, and Indians were a far cry slimmer than the dead tree growing out of the dunes.

Jun just tapped the bottom of the holster again with two fingers. "Higher."

"Shut the fuck up," Nino spat.

"Ain't my fault you gotta learn this, you know," Jun said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Kinda is," the other man hissed. "Either my shoulder or your gut- which one would you have chosen? Think it worked out alright for you, didn't it?"

Jun didn't respond for a long moment as the gun trembled violently, mimicking Nino's arms. He did feel bad- he had enough guilt in his stomach from the barkeep, and now there was more, coiling around the other bits and pulsing like hot coals. And Nino's jaw was so set, so determined; lost a quart of blood and he was still itchin' to be in the fight, still keeping his hands in the dealings. The Nino Jun remembered from four years ago wouldn't have given a damn 'bout Nagase and his black-market trades.

Maybe this was more the Nino his girl had known- more Kazu than Ninomiya standing next to Jun's side.

"Sorry," Jun mumbled. He tried to ignore the pang that went down his spine when Nino's shrewd gaze turned to him instead of the tree. It was churning his stomach somethin' awful- not guilt. Something he didn't know, didn't want to know.

Nino was silent for a long moment, and Jun could hear his labored breathing.

"Don't be," he finally answered, and it sounded different. "Didn't ask me to do it."

He hadn't, but it didn't quell the guilt Jun felt.

"Shouldn't have done it anyway," Jun said.

"Shouldn't I?"

The muzzles of the shotgun didn't feel like the only tension hanging between them anymore. It caught in Jun's throat and made his tongue swell, like too much salt and a distinct lack of water. It was a bit like drowning in the sand and being unable to breathe- but decidedly shiver-inducing.

"Nino," Jun said, without really knowing why, and then Ninomiya's gaze collided with his own, full of a myriad of emotions and none of which Jun could read.

"Don't ask me why I did it," the other man said, and his tone sounded ragged. The barrels of the gun swung wildly in the air. "Don't ask me."

Jun hadn't asked a thing, but the man seemed to be all but babbling.

"You ain't worth it, you know that?" Nino continued, and the gun fell from one hand to hit the ground muzzle-first. Jun half expected it to fire upon impact, but the only sound was his heart screaming against his hearts, like Indian drums. "You ain't worth it, you just ain't."

And Jun leaned in. He paused for a moment, a long moment, thinking that Nino would jump back, or shove him, or let his fist hit Jun's teeth, and he did none of it- he just stayed there staring at Jun with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. Jun finished the movement to kiss him- lightly, feather-light, the barest of brushes. It was painfully slow, maddeningly gentle, and Nino's mouth was moving against his. The man's lips were softer than Jun expected, and salty from the shimmering heat.

Nino's free hand moved to gingerly touch at the side of Jun's face, just as hesitant as his mouth was, like he couldn't quite let himself believe the gunman was really there. And just as Jun closed his eyes and moved to grab the barkeep closer, Nino pulled away with a hissing gasp, grimacing visibly.

"I ain't got much of a conscience," he ground out through clenched teeth, "and I can't believe it's comin' out now. You got your sheriff, Matsumoto."

"I know," Jun agreed, swallowing thickly. His temples were pounding. Nino picked up the gun again, and for a very long moment neither moved- then Nino aimed for the far tree, arms shaking once more, one eye closed as he stared down the barrels.

Jun could see the other man's jaw tighten. He expected the trigger to get pulled- maybe the crackling boom that followed would dissipate the stifling tension they were both choking on. But though Nino's finger quivered, it never closed. The silence was consuming, eating them both alive.

He could hear quickened, raspy breathing, and Jun honestly didn't know whose it was.

Someone moved first- didn't much matter who it was, because a second later and they were just a jumble of hot mouths and needy hands. Nino's tongue swept past his lips almost immediately, demanding and taking his access, and Jun's spurs caught on the dirt as he was pushed backwards into the side of the saloon, back thudding up against the wooden boards.

Nino nipped at Jun's bottom lip, hands on his stomach, everywhere at once.

"Just once," the barkeep gasped, against Jun's mouth, words mingling with Jun's own groan. "Just once, please-"

He'd never heard the man beg before. It felt like fire in his damn blood, and he grabbed the other man's backside, pulling him roughly against him to grind their hips together. His arousal was nearly throbbing with need, sliding against the fabric of his trousers; Nino gasped and bucked against Jun's waist. The barkeep's weight was hot and intoxicating, mouth sucking with alarming deftness at Jun's jaw-line. Jun let his head fall to the side to give him more of an opening, and Nino's teeth found his earlobe. It hurt- stung like hell, and he just let his fingers dig into tighter to the man's ass, like he could pull him further in.

Nino was hard against his own erection, rocking with a rhythm that could mirror the devil himself. God, it hurt, everywhere at once; the man wasn't letting him rest, mouth and teeth moving, roving, nipping everywhere. His hands slammed into the side of the saloon to brace himself against the wall just over Jun's shoulders, and Jun was grateful that his back was against the support- he wasn't sure he could have stayed upright without it.

"Shit," Nino gasped near Jun's ear, digging in further with his hips with the hardness against Jun's thigh. The friction between their bodies was as hot as the sun overhead.

"Nino," Jun groaned, and it felt odd rolling from his tongue- impersonal given the fact that the man was grinding against him while he was pushed up against the very saloon he owned. As if displeased himself, the barkeep bit down hard on Jun's neck, wrenching a moan from Jun's lips. "Ah, Kazu-"

"Shit," the other man said again, with more force this time. God, what was he doing with his hips, how was he rolling them like that? Jun clenched his jaw, but the sensations were far too overpowering to be swallowed down.

"I'm-" he gasped, and Nino's mouth found his jaw again. "God, I'm going-"

Two layers of thread between them and Jun could have sworn he could feel the man's skin against his own. Nino's hands moved abruptly from the building to the sides of Jun's face, and he kissed him, hard, just as everything exploded in Jun's ears. When he gasped and groaned, Nino just bit his lip again- and then he moaned, because the waves were so strong they almost hurt. He bucked against Nino's hips as every muscle twitched, vision going hazy.

When the kiss was broken, he could still hear the other man's labored wheezing. Jun let his hand skim down the front of Nino's trousers, and Nino groaned at the contact, still unfulfilled.

"Close," Nino moaned. "Close, just-"

He ground against Jun again, but Jun took the opening to flip their position, Ninomiya's back hitting the wall with enough force to shake the beams.

"Took a bullet for me, didn't you?" Jun asked, hands pinning Nino's wrists to the boards. Whatever response Nino was trying to give, it only came out as a warbled groan. He kept trying to buck, too impatient, and Jun wasn't having any of it.

"Least I can do," Jun whispered, and knelt, fingers working on the man's belt buckle.

"Ah," came the garbled groan. "Ah, Jun- close-"

He really was- probably painfully so. It took all of two seconds after Jun's mouth settled down around his length before the heat hit the back of Jun's tongue. Nino was quieter when he came than in the moments leading up to it- all he did was shudder violently and gasp a little.

Jun adjusted his hat as Nino re-buckled his trousers.

"Better help your aim," he mumbled, because the sudden sweeping sense of shame was making it difficult to form words. The anguish was so pronounced he could feel it with every pound of his racing heart. Felt like he'd drunk too much brandy and was gonna lose it all back up in a slow burn.

"Don't make me stick this shotgun where the sun don't shine," Nino warned, but the malice was gone from his tone, and Jun didn't really miss it. He picked up the discarded weapon, checking the hammer once, and didn't glance over at Jun again as he began rapid-firing at the tree's still form past the beginning of the sand. The last one hit the largest branch, and the ricochet echoed.

"Higher," Nino sighed, repeating Jun's earlier instructions. "That's right."

"Good," Jun said, and that was all he could get out with the constriction of his chest.

Nino just kept shooting, and didn't say anything more.

And Jun was glad, 'cause even staring at the dirt beneath his boots, all he could think about was Sho.

\------

“I know it’s a ways out of my jurisdiction, sir, but Rapid Springs has been terrorized something awful lately.”

The governor was busy signing papers and puffing on a cigar. Sho was lucky to have gotten an appointment with the man at all. Things in the capital had been a damn mess since the craziness in Lincoln County with the guy they called Billy the Kid and the Regulators a few years back. Factions had formed in the territorial governance, and Sho hadn’t been in town long enough to really know which side to pick.

“We got a lot to worry about here,” the governor mumbled. “I don’t have the men to send down there. Law and order’s tough with all the gangs popping up. Got a lot of ground to cover.”

“I know that, sir,” Sho said bravely. “But I know this man Nagase’s up to something. And if he’s dealing with the Apache and snatching up stolen property from Mexico, it definitely deserves the attention of you folks up here.”

The governor waved him off. “Done talking to you. Nagase’s clean. You still got a problem with him, you take it up with one of the other lawmen in the building. I’m not pulling in a legitimate businessman based on speculation and hearsay, Sheriff Sakurai, when I got people being shot in other counties by lawless gangs. You best get back to your town now, if it’s being terrorized like you say.”

Sho hid his fist behind his back. Arrest warrants were expedited if the governor called for it. Now he’d be dealing with all the bureaucratic red tape with the attorneys and law enforcement bigwigs. “Thanks for your time, sir. You have a good day now.”

He left the office, careful not to slam the door. It was cooler here in Santa Fe, higher up in the mountains with its many adobe buildings. Most of the other offices here in the Palace of the Governors were empty – apparently everyone was on a siesta or not in for work that day. He’d have to try again tomorrow to get someone interested in Nagase.

But who? If the governor said the rancher was clean, then maybe Nagase had some real friends up here. Sho was going to think himself to death that night, trying to remember every civil servant, lawyer, and lawman he’d met all those months ago. Who was on the side of justice? Who wouldn’t let Nagase and his cronies destroy Rapid Springs?

He crossed the plaza in the town center, walking back to the hotel where he and Ohno were staying. Maybe he’d pay a few house calls that night, trying to see if anyone would be happy to see him…and happy to go along with their scheme to get Nagase for good.

The baker was still out looking for contractors, and the hotel room was quiet. Sho kicked off his boots and tried to relax. It had been a long journey up here. If he couldn’t get anyone in Santa Fe interested, then they were all screwed. They needed to arrest Nagase legally. Of course, once he was in official legal custody they were going to kill him, something Sho still wasn’t all too interested in doing. There’d been enough killing.

His mind drifted, names of different bureaucrats in Santa Fe blurring. In comparison to Jun and Ninomiya, his part of the plan was the easy one. The safe bet. He didn’t have to negotiate with the Apache or sneak stolen cattle onto another man’s property. Every time he had the need to prove himself, Sho had come up short. Rapid Springs needed defending? He’d needed Jun’s revolvers. Jun himself needed defending? Nino took the bullet.

He pulled his hat down over his eyes while he rested on the bed. It would work out. If anything, he was better at dealing with city folk than frontier folk. His tenure as sheriff had all but proved that. He fell asleep, mind consumed with worry.

Next thing he knew, night had fallen, and Ohno was returning. Sho’s stomach rumbled appreciatively as the baker had returned with some decent bread and roasted chicken from the hotel’s restaurant. “Let me pay you for that,” Sho said, getting to his feet while Ohno set the food down on the table in their room.

Ohno just waved him off. They ate ravenously, only pausing to gulp down some sweet lemonade. The baker was pouring Sho a fresh glass when he finally spoke. “Just wanted to tell you Sheriff…thanks for bringing Nino back alive.”

He nodded, taking another bite of his dinner. He really didn’t want to think about Nino, not now. “Of course.”

“I know he’s a bit difficult. But thank you. He’s a good friend, even though he’s a bit prickly.”

Sho wouldn’t exactly use the words “a bit prickly” to describe Ninomiya, but Ohno certainly had a different outlook on life than he did. “My job to protect the town and her residents.”

Ohno sipped his lemonade slowly. “I know Nino and Matsumoto had their troubles. Good to see they’re not bitin’ each other’s head off now.”

They still were, Sho mused, but they were keepin’ it a lot quieter. He felt a prickling at the back of his neck at mention of Jun, remembering the other man’s lips pressing just above his collar before they’d fallen asleep the other night. The intimacy and gentleness of the gesture stayed with him even now, and he rubbed the skin where his hair was plastered down from sweat.

“Think I’ll turn in for the night, Satoshi, if you don’t mind.” He wasn’t that tired, seeing as how he’d had a nap already, but if he was trying to sleep, there’d be no talk of Ninomiya. Or of Jun.

“Sure don’t. Should turn in myself. Gotta sign a contract for some builders tomorrow. Need my sleep before I read all the small print,” the other man admitted. They changed, settling into the small beds.

He was staring up at the ceiling in the dark when he heard Ohno’s voice from the other bed. “Sheriff?”

“Yeah?”

“Matsumoto’s been staying at your place?”

He felt the air leave his lungs, and thank God they were in the dark because he felt an awful heat creeping into his cheeks. “He is,” was all he could manage to say. He had flashes of Jun’s mouth on his own, the softness of Jun’s hair between his fingers as it brushed against the inside of his thigh, and Rapid Springs seemed so far away.

Sho listened to Ohno turn in the bed, springs squeaking. “Think he needs you.”

Did the whole town know? A minute passed, then two. Sho felt lightheaded, all his blood rushing from his brain. “I’m sorry?” he finally asked, hoping Ohno had said something else.

But the other man was already snoring.


	11. Chapter 11

_Her eyes were very wide, dark as the sea._

_"You're movin'?" she asked, voice coming out a bit like a squeak._

_"You know there ain't nothing left for me here," he said. The ground beneath his knees was wet, and the moisture was creeping into the thread of his trousers. Beside his arm stood the granite stone erected for his mother- simple, uncarved still, and not uniform in color, but he didn't think she would have really cared about fancy stuff. It was all he could afford, in the end of things. "Ain't no reason to stay."_

_"I'm not reason to stay?" she asked, and even though she ducked her head, he could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. She let her fingers brush at the petals of the flowers she'd brought for his ma._

_He couldn't answer for a long moment, because his throat had closed up, but she gave a breathy little sigh and held up the bouquet._

_"Your ma loved daisies," she said, softly. "Loved havin' them grow just outside her window, so she could see them dance in the wind every day."_

_"I know," he choked out._

_"But you know what daisies mean?" she asked him. When she raised her chin, one of the tears escaped and trickled slowly down the smooth curve of her cheek. "They mean a farewell."_

_She set the flowers down against the stone and sniffled. He sat up a bit, letting his own fingers fall on top of hers- even with her sewing and needlework, her hands were soft still. Soft like the finest silk. He could spend hours just running his fingertips over the fine skin of her hands, listening to her sigh in contentment._

_"They're a good funeral flower," she continued, and her voice broke a little bit at the end. "At the shop, we put them in funeral bouquets to say farewells with. I should have known you was gonna leave me."_

_"No, look," he started. "I said I was leavin'- but-"_

_He was fumblin' something awful with his words, and it was a moment he didn't want to be. He grappled inside the pockets of his trousers for the little box, and pulled it out._

_"Here," he said, handing it to her. With trembling fingers, she took it from his palm. She gave him a look- eyes still sparkling in the sunlight- and when she opened it up, gasped. The silver of the chain was blinding when it caught the sun's rays just right._

_"I know it ain't much," he said, and it wasn't- just a simple oval locket with a floral emblem embossed into it, "but I thought- well, I thought you could come with me."_

_When she just stared at him in shock, he swallowed hard._

_"I mean, to get married. We could get married. And you could come out West with me once I sell all ma's things."_

_It took her so long to say something, say anything, that he thought she was going to turn him down flat. But she ran her fingers over the flower on the necklace and gave out a tiny little laugh, as more tears gathered in the corners of her eyes._

_"Really?" she asked, and she was smilin' brighter than the sun. "Kazu, really?"_

_"Yeah," he said. Suddenly, he was laughing, too. "Yeah, really. Look, I know it ain't a ring-"_

_"Oh, I don't care!" she exclaimed, leaning forward to throw her arms around his shoulders and kiss his cheek with her pert lips. "Oh, you know I don't care 'bout that! Oh, Kazu, can we really get married?"_

_He reached for the box as she pulled away, disentangling the necklace and pulling it from the stiff material inside. His hands were shaking so bad it was hard to get the clasp open, but somehow he did it, and she turned obediently for him to fasten it around her neck._

_"Is it ivy?" she asked, fingers tracing over the design again._

_"For fidelity," he explained. "I asked Christie Bakerson what it meant, just cause I knew you'd want it to mean something. You always want things to mean somethin'."_

_She was smilin' again, with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. "You mean something, Kazu."_

_He brushed ringlets away from the side of her face. In the warmth of spring, she looked radiant. He wondered if his ma was watchin' from Heaven, at the two of them sitting in the long grass by her grave. He hoped she was. He hoped she was happy for him._

_"You mean everythin'," he told her, and let his forehead rest against her temple. "You hear me? You mean everything to me."_

Chief Coyote Howl was no fool- he kept his men moving, and kept them hidden. By federal law, most of the Apache had been relegated to the Arizona reservations, but there were a few tribes still ducking under the law's eyes and conducting business near the border. Didn't always stay in the same place, but usually one or two riskier gamblers knew where to find them. Tended to be easier when the tribe was dragging a herd of cattle at their heels.

When they arrived at the bluffs, Nino knew his source had been right. A handful of rickety tent-tops were visible from the hills against the horizon. The dust that blew up when his boots hit the dirt upon dismount made his eyes sting, but he made sure to keep his hands slow-movin' and in plain sight- didn't want Coyote Howl getting any wrong ideas about their arrival. Behind him, Jun was doing the same.

Two horses rode out to meet them, covered in colorful blankets and adorned with feathers and beaded hoops 'round the saddle-horns.

"Heard through the mill you got some cattle you're lookin' to sell," Nino said, when the hooves of the Apache horses had stilled against the sand.

"Depends," came the answer. Neither man was Chief Coyote Howl, but Nino hadn't figured the chief himself would come down to meet two stragglers lookin' to trade. "Depends on who you are."

Nino gestured back over his shoulder at Jun, who was wisely staying quiet. There was a knot in his stomach that refused to yield; dealing with Apache wasn't easy, and he was treading a dangerous line, but if Nagase's name held the influence he thought it did, the acquisition should go pretty smooth.

"Works for Nagase," he explained. "Lookin' to buy and sell quick, turn a nice profit."

The stolid figures on the horses exchanged quick, unreadable glances.

"I've met your chief," Nino continued, hoping to soften doubts. "Did some dealin's with Rapid Springs a few years back. Always paid in full, paid fair. Fixin' to do the same here."

"Confederate?" one asked.

"Was," Jun answered. Another silence, and Nino could finally see the far edge of the moving herd from behind the start of the bluffs- noisy, foul-smelling beasts, but from what he could see, they looked better than some of the bare-bones stock he'd seen run past Rapid Springs in the past. Hadn't been long, then, since the Apache had picked them up. That put the source within a few counties, or over the border- and Nino's bet was on the latter.

Good. Getting the herd from 'cross the bounds upped the possibility that they were stolen, and that was what Sho needed to bank on to get the feds interested.

The Apache's faces didn't show much by way of expression, but Nino could see lines across both foreheads that spoke volumes about the troubles they'd seen lately. He couldn't argue- tribe probably spent half their days keepin' out of federal eyes to avoid being shuffled over to the dingy reservations the government had set up.

Jun's horse stamped impatiently at the dirt.

"What are you offerin'?" the bigger of the two Indians asked.

"Usual," Nino said. "Couple hundred and coin. The going rate."

"400 headcount," the Apache informed him. Nino did the math quick in his head- the number was higher than he'd picked up through the grapevine, and he didn't know if they'd brought enough to deal with. He glanced back at Jun in question- the gunman got a little shifty under his gaze, but nodded in confirmation. Of all the times to start gettin' shy, Matsumoto picked the worst. Standing in front of two armed Indians was no time to start reminiscin' about getting physical.

Nino swallowed the memories down.

"Alright," he said.

"Good stock," the Apache said, and Nino didn't like the set of the man's jaw. "Might need more than the usual. It's not easy moving them through the desert."

Dammit- bargaining. Nagase's name hadn't pulled as much weight as Nino had been hoping, but he was sure the cattle were wet stock. And the higher herd number than they'd been expecting was throwing off how much they could offer. They didn't want to appear too desperate, or else the Apache would get suspicious. But if they turned it all down-

"Rather see the head first, 'fore we make any increases," Jun said, from behind Nino. Nino's breath caught. It was a risky move, and they were already standing on tenuous threads. The Apache shared another lingering glance, and one nodded just slightly, enough that Nino picked up on the movement. The air felt stifling all of a sudden, cloying around his shoulders.

"Got ammunition?" the smaller Indian asked, and Nino let out a bit of the air he'd been holding. Reluctance to show the stock meant some were most likely branded; a sure sign they'd been rustled from someone else's herd.

"Couple sacks," Jun replied. "Enough for ten, maybe fifteen."

Nino was quite suddenly very grateful that the gunman had thought to bring something like that. All he'd brought to offer was the handful of bills shoved in his breast pocket, and it was lookin' slimmer and slimmer by the minute.

"For 300, then," the larger Indian said. Not all the herd, but enough. They could go with that, but they had parts to play; Nagase was the biggest hand around the provinces, and he wouldn't accepted leaving a fourth of the cattle behind, especially not if he was paying the going rate.

Jun tapped his fingers against the bill of his hat. "Got gunpowder, too. 350."

Nino's chest felt like it would explode. He could feel the heat radiating off his mare shaking her mane next to him, and he idly ran his fingers through the coarse hair.

"Alright," came the answer. "350."

All his muscles wanted to uncoil at once, and he fought against it. He reached in his vest for the bills and coin, while Jun tossed over the bullets and powder he produced from beneath the blanket on his mount's saddle. The Apache pocketed it all silently, and then waved back towards the bluffs where the rest were. There was a sharp whistle, and a few smacks, and the thunder of stampeding hooves started.

The taller of the Indians gave Nino a nod, and the two doin' the negotiations clicked their tongues and turned their horses back towards the ridge. Jun was up and on the saddle already, movin' round the back to meet the Apache spurring the cattle on. Nino didn't know anything about herding cattle across sand dunes, but he figured he ought to do the same. Felt good to be back on his horse, at any rate; quicker to get away should something go sour.

When the Apache left, it was just him and Matsumoto with the stinking beasts.

"How long is this gonna take?" Nino asked, watching one of the cattle's eyes roll back a bit in its head.

"Dunno," Jun mumbled in reply, and then added, "too long. Let's just get moving."

They had to get to the edge of Nagase's ranch 'fore the feds spotted them with the herd.

\------

Coyote Howl had kindly offered two of his boys to help them move the cattle, and since he and Nino were suspicious by nature, neither of them had slept since there was no knowing if the two helpers would turn on them or not.

Jun rode near the front, leading as quickly as he dared. He squinted, watching the sun set. They were going to keep the cattle moving all night, stopping only at creeks for them to drink. By the time they got the beasts unloaded and got back to Rapid Springs, hopefully the sheriff would have sent word from Santa Fe. Nagase’s ranch was enormous - it would be a while before they did a count and noticed the extra cattle.

The ride was slow, and once night fell and got the cattle through a particularly tricky pass, Jun halted his horse. “We’ll be fine from here,” he told Coyote Howl’s men, who seemed pleased to be able to turn back and go home. Jun imagined that Nagase’s reputation preceded him in these parts.

Nino was struggling to stay awake near the rear of the herd. Jun could just tell from the way he was slumping in his saddle. It was probably hardest for him, not being accustomed to so many noisy, complaining cattle and suffering from his wound. At least the cows slowed them down, and they couldn’t ride hard. Although the return trip from Nagase’s would be irritating for Jun. He’d prefer to get out of there as quick as his horse would carry him.

Maybe he just didn’t feel right around Nino now. Man had hated him, wanted him dead, but the past weeks had changed them both. Whether for better or for worse, Jun didn’t know. But the guilt was eating him alive. Ninomiya hadn’t said word one about what had happened between them. Maybe there was nothing to be said. Maybe their little feud was done for good now.

But what did that mean for Sho? Would Nino lay off, keep what happened between them? Or would he look for an advantage later? Use it as insurance in case Jun did something Nino didn’t like? He swallowed a gulp of water and replaced the canteen at his side. The Apache had already gone, their horses kicking up dust in the opposite direction now.

Jun kept his worries bottled, focusing on continuing the drive towards Nagase’s. The minutes, then the hours passed. He looked back as sneakily as he could every few minutes to make sure Nino was still with him, still alert. The cattle were behaved enough, stinking of dung and a bit loud, but they followed and kept together. He took a bite of the hard bread they’d taken from Aiba’s place and waved for Nino to ride up alongside him. They were close now.

“We’ll get them there ‘fore sunrise?” Nino asked as he approached, wincing something terrible. Jun imagined the man’s whole left side was aching. He remembered how that pain had stuck with him for ages.

“Just on the other side of that pass,” Jun said, knowing Nino wasn’t going to like the next bit. “Need you to lead ‘em all there. I’m riding ahead. Gotta find a place where the fence can be broke, sneak ‘em in there.”

Nino looked immediately distressed. “By myself? Why did you send those boys away? Was this your plan the whole time? To see three hundred plus cattle go running every which way?”

“Calm down, you’ll spook the animals carrying on like that.”

“I’m not carrying on, Matsumoto, I’m reacting like any man who never herded no cattle before would! And I’m injured, mind. I can’t be chasing them if they get any ideas!”

Jun grinned, tipping his hat. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. By the time you get down through the valley, I’ll be back to help you.”

Nino was still annoyed. “I’ll smack that look off your damn face.”

He chuckled, giving his horse a nudge. Nino’s cursing followed him for quite a ways. The animal seemed pleased to be going a bit quicker, and Jun made good time hurrying on ahead. As soon as he came through the pass, the valley opened wide before him. Nagase’s grazing lands stretched out almost as far as Jun could see in the starlight.

He scanned the fencing, looking for any gaps. Nagase had money and enough hands to find problem spots. There’d only be one, maybe two boys at most riding around at night, and they had a lot of ground to cover. It was pretty chilly too, so the corners of Nagase’s property might not be as closely monitored. The eastern side of the land was flatter. No obvious place to break the fence and mend it without alerting Nagase’s boys.

But the western side, at least from where Jun was observing, seemed the better bet. The grasslands grew sparser as the gentle hills grew steeper. The grass tapered off into hard rock, and Jun’s eyes followed the white fence until it halted against the rock wall. There. That was where he’d break the fence. The cows would find their way down to where the fields started, and they wouldn’t wander back and break out. If Nagase’s boys ever made it to the natural edge of the property, it wouldn’t be hard to imagine a rock fall had taken out the fence.

Jun spurred the horse on, hugging the valley wall, keeping the fence ahead of him. Nagase’s house was miles off in the distance. Even in the dark night, he had no trouble imagining the man in his old uniform coat, smiling that smile that let you know he was seeing right through your lies.

He dismounted where the fence stopped, setting down the small pouch of feed to keep the horse from getting skittish. Jun examined the wood, seeing the paint was chipped and cracked from exposure to the sun, and since the cattle rarely came to this part of the property, the fencing wasn’t as well kept.

His boot shattered the wood easily, splintering and cracking. He dug around for a pair of gloves, taking the broken pieces and tossing them aside. It only took minutes to take enough of it out. They’d have to force the cows to go through the opening since he didn’t dare break more of it. It would be hard work, but they could do it. They would do it.

Jun got back on the horse as soon as he was satisfied, hurrying back to find that Nino had done a fine job keeping the cattle together despite his worries and cursing. “About time you got back,” he greeted him, and Jun sighed. No matter what there was between him and Nino, the man’s attitude rarely changed.

Together, they got the cows down through the valley and over the rocky terrain. They pushed inward, forcing the cattle along the rock wall and down to where the fence was busted. Jun rode at the front, dismounting in time for the cattle to arrive. He smacked them along, doing his best to keep them from straying. Nino rode back and forth, keeping them together.

Slowly but surely, the cows made their way along the wall and past where Jun had broken the fence. They were noisy, but far enough away that they were probably in the clear. The animals, desperate to graze, hurried the other way, down the cracked, dusty terrain in search of the grass. They’d mingle in with Nagase’s herd before sunrise for sure.

“Never moving cows again,” Nino said grumpily when they were finally getting the last few stragglers through the gap in the fence. “Don’t care what the reason. Don’t wanna see a cow unless it’s a steak on my plate.”

They were done. Sweaty and tired, but they couldn’t linger here and risk being spotted. “Come on. We leave now, we could make Rapid Springs by nightfall if we ride straight through.”

Nino moaned. “No way. My arm’s about to fall off. You go as fast as you want, Matsumoto, but I ain’t doing more than trotting.”

He sighed. “You’re more recovered than you let on, hurry up.” Nino was still bitching, but it was obvious that he didn’t know the way back home without Jun riding before him. It was hard to go slow still after all the hours with the cattle, but he kept a manageable pace so Ninomiya wouldn’t get left behind.

They’d done their part. His thoughts drifted northward as the sun rose for the day, and they left Nagase’s land behind. It was up to the sheriff now.

\-------

"How many days you think it's gonna take to get the investigation under way?" Ohno asked, as Sho gently folded the edges of the paper inward and smoothed down the creases with his fingertips.

"Could be a day, could be a week," Sho answered. He sighed- working through the convoluted channels and red tape of the federal bureaucracy was going to stall the entire plan, but they had some time they could afford to lose. Nagase's ranch was the biggest in the whole damn state; the odds of him finding cattle branded to someone else within the time Sho was waiting on the okay from the higher-ups was slim. They had that much working for them, at least.

"What'd you write?" the baker asked, gesturing towards the letter in Sho's hands.

"Just that," Sho explained. "Got the investigation started, but Lord only knows how long it'll actually take. Figure I gotta stay here, til they send me home."

The line moved, allowing Sho access to the counter. Courier messages weren't cheap, but it would get there faster than Sho himself would, and he needed to let Jun and Ninomiya know what was goin' on at his end of things. The woman behind the counter took his money with an easy smile, and when he stepped away at the end of the transaction, there were beads of sweat on his brow.

"Too damn hot," he muttered, wiping at his forehead with the back of his hand. Ohno stepped out into the sweltering midday sun with him, hands shoved in his pockets, and Sho glanced at him out of the corner of his vision. "Find what you needed, then?"

"Mm," came the affirmative. "Got some workers comin' down week after next to get started."

He was glad someone's plans were movin' ahead, at least. He wiped at the sweat trickling down his cheeks again, as footsteps approached from behind, kickin' up dust.

"Sheriff Sakurai?"

Both Sho and Ohno turned. It was a skinny whelp of a boy, breathing hard and half-doubled over, wearing a pin signifying he was a runner for the feds. An errand-boy. He gulped in a few lungfuls of air before continuing. "Gov'nor wants to see you in his office."

Sho looked at Ohno, and the other man just shrugged a bit. An impromptu call from the governor could only mean his claim for investigation had been expedited- and that was good news. He tried to swallow down the pleased sting of victory in the back of his throat.

"Alright," he told the pageboy, slowly. "Now?"

The boy nodded, and Sho gave Ohno a little wave.

"Shouldn't be too long," he said. The kid was movin' like death was on his heels, but his legs weren't very long- just gangly, and all angles- so Sho didn't have much trouble keeping up. His pace set the atmosphere up to something Sho wasn't entirely sure he could read. Had the feds found something, then, while looking over Nagase's holdings? Or had someone in the other faction had a grudge 'gainst the man, too? Didn't really matter, in the end, not when Sho's boots were thudding outside the governor's cushy office once more.

He rapped his knuckles against the door, and got a muffled "enter" from the other side.

"You wanted to see me?" he said, stepping through the portal.

"Mm, the Nagase matter," the plump man behind the desk said, arms folded over his chest. His jaw was set, lined and dotted with bits of whiskers. "We've taken another look into the claim. Think you might be onto something, after all."

It was a faction-driven change, then. Sho kept his face decidedly neutral.

"Looks like our friend Nagase has his stakes in some places he shouldn't," the governor continued. "Old confederate stock, some stolen weaponry- couldn't find anythin' on the cattle, but that's not surprisin'. Don't untangle that mess til you wade through it with your own two hands."

"He's gonna stand trial?" Sho asked. His heartbeat was pounding against his ears.

"If your claim is true, yes." The governor's eyes were shrewd, looking Sho over hard. The man bent over the desk and tapped one finger against the grain of sanded wood in an erratic, out of time rhythm. "But we gotta be sure he's got wet stock in his herds."

Sho shifted his weight from heel to heel. "You want me checkin'?"

"About that," the governor said, and he rose to his feet. He stopped by the window on the other side of his desk, staring out the grimy glass like he could see everythin' going on in the whole of New Mexico from his perch. "You ain't got enough authority, there. Need someone whose eyes I can trust."

"Sir-"

"Ain't saying I can't trust you," the man huffed. "But I gotta make sure things're done right."

Outside the door, Sho could hear the footsteps of a clerk, clipped against the wood.

"Sendin' a marshal with you." Bile rose in the back of Sho's throat, but from the tone of the governor's voice, the decision was final. "Name's Nakai. He'll be checkin' the cattle."

No- marshals didn't travel alone- the man had a partner, no doubt. That was two extra people Sho hadn't counted on bein' present when they rode up to Nagase's to haul him in. Two extra people who rode the high side of the law that were gonna snag the whole damn plan if he didn't sort somethin' out right quick. He swallowed hard, but couldn't stop his heartbeat from increasing painfully in his chest.

The governor resumed his tapping, fingertips clicking against the windowsill.

"This comes through, you done a good thing, Sakurai," the man said. All Sho could see was the plan fallin' into a hundred little pieces at his feet, and Nagase gettin' away clean. Sure, they'd get him on rustled cattle, or stolen war goods, but that wasn't enough. Wasn't near enough to make up for what he'd put Rapid Springs through- not enough for Satoshi's store, nor the bodies they'd buried next to the church of Rapid Springs' own.

"Thank you, sir," Sho choked out.

"Marshal'll meet you outside the courier's office tomorrow morning to ride down," the governor instructed.

"I-" Sho started, and then stopped. Didn't matter that his fingers were pressed so hard into his palm there were gonna be half-moon ridges in the skin. Didn't matter that they'd worked so hard to get Nagase to where they wanted him, to give him what he deserved. Nothin' mattered, cause the governor was standing in front of him with the beginnings of a frown on his features- and it was his territory. It was his jurisdiction.

Sho just nodded, swallowing his pride. "Yes, sir."

And when he left the office, he couldn't stop the waves of disappointment as he furiously tried to figure out to tie the rapidly unwinding threads.

\------

He hadn’t expected to be included in whatever the sheriff was planning, but as soon as Sho had gotten word that there’d be not one, but two federal marshals accompanying him, he’d asked Ohno to come along for the ride.

Not that he minded. He spent most of his life in and around Rapid Springs, only taking trips to make big purchases or go where the fishing was better. Ohno hadn’t seen too many big ranches, and much as he knew Nagase was a rotten apple and the man responsible for destroying his store, he wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity like this.

But the trip there from Santa Fe sure was trying his patience. Satoshi Ohno considered himself level-headed. More inclined to peacemaking and compromise than other residents of Rapid Springs. It was probably why he and Deputy Aiba were such good acquaintances. Sheriff Sakurai had a temper on him, and Ohno had long grown used to Nino’s tendency to snap with little provocation.

Masahiro Nakai, Deputy United States Marshal, was a character. Ohno didn’t hate people on principle, as he preferred to treat others the way he wanted to be treated in return. But Nakai, whom Ohno had only known for the better part of a day, was a right pain in the ass. Nakai’s partner, Ishibashi, was tall and friendly and teasing. But Nakai was a squirrelly sort who wore a blue bandanna under his cowboy hat and made sniping remarks.

“If this is a waste of my time, Sakurai,” Nakai kept complaining, “I’m hauling you to a jail cell. You can just rot there as a disgrace to lawmaking in these here United States.”

Now Ohno didn’t know much about the law, beyond what protections there were for property and merchandise. But he imagined that Nakai thought himself a big man out in these parts, waving that federal star and spit polishing it so it gleamed more in the sun than Sho’s sheriff badge.

To Ohno’s surprise, Sho was remaining quiet as he and Nakai rode side by side. Ohno stayed back with Ishibashi, who just looked rather bored. “Nakai doesn’t leave Santa Fe unless he knows he gets to haul in some crooks,” Ishibashi informed him. “It’s gotta be high profile. He wants to be protecting the president or something.”

“He should focus on performing the tasks he’s assigned,” Ohno let slip, and somehow, some way, Nakai heard him. The other man halted his horse and came back to stare Ohno in the eye.

“You got a problem with me, shop keep?”

Ishibashi waved Nakai off. “Calm down, calm down. Mr. Ohno’s just being candid with you.”

“Candid?” Nakai squealed, and Ohno wished he was back in Rapid Springs relaxing with a glass of sweet tea. “I don’t need him to be candid. Hell, I don’t need him here at all!”

Sho looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

Ohno didn’t much enjoy seeing the sheriff have to humble himself like that when it was his slip-up that got Nakai all riled up. “I apologize, Mr. Nakai…”

“Don’t be so casual! That’s Deputy Marshal Nakai!”

“Of course,” Ohno replied, praying for Nagase’s ranch to materialize and for all this business to be over. Nakai, still furious, turned back and rode off angrily, forcing the three of them to pick up their pace to follow him.

Ishibashi smiled. “He doesn’t like people who won’t acknowledge his position and standing.” The man tipped his hat. “I like you.”

Ohno didn’t know what to make of that. He preferred the straightforward earnestness of his own sheriff. They continued their ride, only stopping to let the horses drink. By mid-afternoon, Nakai announced that they were just crossing onto Nagase’s holdings according to the survey map.

He saw Sho visibly tense. Had Jun and Nino managed to get cattle from the Apache onto Nagase’s grazing lands? There were a few ranch hands on horses dotting the grasses and all the cattle seem scattered, standing in small groups. Ohno wouldn’t be able to tell a stolen cow from another, but federal investigators like Deputy U.S. Marshal Nakai probably would know more about branding and such.

They rode up to the main house, and Ohno wanted to tell the sheriff to relax. It was just going to make Nakai and his partner suspicious. Jun had warned them that Nagase was a big guy, intimidating. But Ohno did his best to keep his cool as they dismounted near the man’s front porch. This man had ordered his store burnt to the ground, and they hadn’t even met. Ohno wanted to see his face for himself.

“U.S. Marshals!” Nakai shouted. “Tomoya Nagase, got a few questions to ask you!”

Sho stood behind Nakai, subordinate, and he and Ishibashi stayed back. The other marshal wasn’t as flippant as Ohno had originally thought, his eyes darting from the porch to the upstairs windows, looking to see if Nagase had set up a trap for them.

“Got wind you been dealing with the Apache. My bosses in Santa Fe don’t take kindly to dealing with folks who oughta be on their reservations,” Nakai continued shouting at the house. “If you could come straighten out these rumors, we’d be much obliged, sir.”

A few tense minutes later, the screen door opened and the man himself emerged. He had to be over six feet tall, Ohno realized. He wore a Confederate officer’s jacket, just as Jun had said, and the brass buttons were tarnished with rusty stains. Blood, Ohno remembered. He smiled big, as though the marshals were no threat.

“Gentlemen, hello. Wish you’d have announced you were coming, or I could have had my housekeeper make up some dinner for you.” His voice was deep, with an undercurrent to it that Ohno couldn’t pin down. This was the man who’d gone off to make a deal with Mendoza. To ensure that Rapid Springs would starve. To burn down Ohno’s store and his home.

Nakai flashed his star. “Deputy U.S. Marshal Nakai, Deputy U.S. Marshal Ishibashi. We’re checking up on a report about some cattle on your property, as well as a few rumors about the legality of some of your business transactions.”

“I can assure you gentlemen that I don’t break any territorial laws.” Nagase’s teeth were white and sharp like a wolf’s. “Might I inquire about who launched these nasty rumors?”

Nakai opened his mouth to speak, but to Ohno’s surprise, Sho stepped forward. “Sheriff Sakurai, Mr. Nagase. Rapid Springs, ‘bout a day’s ride from here. Maybe you’ve heard of it?”

Ohno watched Nagase’s smile become fake, but he held it. “Believe I have. Not much more than a hole in the wall, seeing as how the railroad was built to the north a few years back.”

Sho tipped his hat. “We’re a bit more than an ink spot on the map, sir, but anyhow, I just heard from some folk passin’ through that there was some shady dealings going on. Found it my civic duty to let the people up in Santa Fe know.”

Nagase stepped forward, boots heavy on the porch. “Some folk passin’ through, huh? I’m entitled to face my accuser, ain’t I? Someone casting aspersions on my good character, and he can’t even show his face to me, Sheriff Sakurai? Unless the gentleman behind you is the accuser?”

“I’m not,” Ohno said. “But I do own a dry goods store in town, Mr. Nagase, sir.”

He was trapped. Nagase could feel the walls closing in, Ohno could just tell. He’d been through enough rough patches in Rapid Springs lately to figure out when a man was getting skittish.

Nakai cleared his throat. “Ain’t no more than a rumor, Mr. Nagase. But we take these things seriously up north, so if you have nothing to hide, can Deputy Marshal Ishibashi and I take a gander at your livestock?”

Nagase was suspicious, his eyes passing shrewdly from Sho to Ohno. Did he know who was behind the killings at Mendoza’s? Did he know he and the sheriff knew Jun? Ohno prayed that Jun and Nino had been successful. The tall man stepped down from the porch. “Nothing to hide. We keep a good count of our cattle here. If you gentlemen would be so kind to follow me.”

Nakai and Ishibashi were immediately on Nagase’s heels, and Ohno got behind the sheriff. “Think he’s gonna bolt?” he asked Sho.

Sho was still nervous, at least in his eyes. “Don’t know. Don’t know how long it’s gonna take to figure out if the other cattle are here.”

It took two hours.

“Wait, hold up,” Ishibashi announced, waving for Nakai’s attention. “This brand don’t match the others.”

Ohno stayed back while a rather confused Nagase joined the two marshals and Sho around one of the cows. “This says Corona Guevara on it, look at those markings,” Nakai wondered aloud. “That’s one of the biggest ranches in Sonora.”

“Sonora?” Nagase blustered, coming over to examine the brand. “How the hell…”

Sonora. Right over the border in Mexico. Nino and Jun had picked stolen merchandise from the right place, that was for damn sure. Nagase looked furious. The Sonora-branded cow was mingled perfectly with three of his own and the fields still stretched on for miles. He was stuck.

“Mr. Nagase, would you care to explain how one of Corona Guevara’s livestock found its way here?”

Nagase was ready to spit. He pointed right at Sho. “You! You set this up! Are you workin’ with him? You trying to get me strung up, boy?”

Ishibashi stepped forward, putting distance between himself and Sakurai. “Now now, calm down, sir. Let’s just catch our breath here. You think our sheriff here would register his suspicions through official channels, putting his own reputation at risk for the sake of a conspiracy?”

Nakai was watching Sho’s reaction for this. The marshals weren’t all bluster – they were damn good at their jobs. If Nagase came out and said how well he knew the folks in Rapid Springs, he was just digging his hole deeper. Sho stood his ground. “I just want to see justice done. Don’t matter how much land a man owns. Nobody is above the law.” Ohno watched Sho’s eyes narrow at Nagase. “Nobody.”

Nagase just stared the sheriff down, and Ohno could see murder in his eyes. And Ohno didn’t much like that look at all. But Nakai was already on his way back to the house. “You’ll be coming back to Santa Fe with us while we launch an official investigation into all your property, all your holdings and their acquisitions.”

Ishibashi was smiling. “Now we ain’t gonna charge you til you arrive, so go ahead and make your plans. We’ll escort you if you want to travel in one of your fancy coaches.”

“How thoughtful,” Nagase said, barely containing his rage. “I’ll put you gentlemen up for the night. All four, just to show you these claims aren’t who I really am.”

“Mighty fine of you,” Ishibashi replied. “You’ll be wanting a lawyer, all your deeds of sale, anything that might prove this whole thing’s a fluke.”

“Lawyer’s back in town. I can ride and fetch him.”

Nakai dared to pat the taller man on the shoulder. “Now, Mr. Nagase, you know we can’t let you go do that. If you’ll just give my partner here the solicitor’s address, he’d be happy to go fetch him.”

Sho hung back while the marshals and Nagase spoke. “We’re changing the plan,” Sho told him. “And I need to you to ride back to Rapid Springs. Right now.”

Ohno didn’t like this. “You think Nakai would let me?”

“I’ll deal with Nakai,” Sho explained. “But we can’t have no ambush with two federal marshals escorting Nagase and his lawyer back to Santa Fe. No way they’ll just turn the man over to me. Just get Nino and Jun to come up here.”

“But…”

Sho pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking quickly on his feet. “I don’t know, Satoshi, I don’t know. Just have Aiba give his badge to Nino. I’ll tell Nakai that my deputy’s coming to help. Jun’ll just have to come up with something himself. He’s better at this than me.”

Ohno just let Sho ramble on about Jun being good at figuring things out, at making things right. He didn’t much fancy a ride back to town all by his lonesome, and he didn’t much like the thought of leaving Sho alone here.

“You gonna be okay here?”

“Don’t worry about me. You need to get back to Jun, okay? Please.”

He just hoped Nagase wouldn’t dare killing a sheriff or a marshal in his home. Ohno made his way to his horse, Sho giving him a nod of encouragement.

“You stay safe, sheriff.”

Sho shrugged. “Do what I can.”

Ohno headed off back to the horses, hoping that Sho would be able to talk himself out of the growing mess. If they were leaving for Santa Fe the next day, he’d have to hurry and Jun and Nino would have to ride double time. It was going to be cutting it close, that was for sure.

“Come on,” he said, patting the horse. “We need to get moving.”

\------

It was hot, and the sweat from his forehead was stinging his eyes.

He wiped at his forehead with his hand, running his fingers across the metal bar above him. It was hotter still under the body of the concord coach propped up on wooden blocks near the forge. His fingers found the screws connecting the singletrees and the whippletree. The metal was bent, and a bit cracked- the pad of his finger found one of the sharper edges, and he winced; no wonder the harnesses had come free. The welding had been quickly and shoddily done, and the bars were barely holding together.

Shifting, he moved his hands towards the back axles. The reaches, too, were starting to bend and break under the pressure of the loads carried by the cabin.

Aiba pushed himself back out from under the coach and wiped his hands on the fabric of his trousers. Didn't see too many coaches in need of repair anymore, 'specially not around Rapid Springs; town was too far off the map, too far away from the railroad to really get business like it used to. But he liked working on the coaches, because they were simple- easy to understand. They weren't wrapped up all together like jumbled yarn tossed aside, like the people around him.

The metal was easier to work with than the shrouds of past events. Aiba had always been fonder of getting frustrations out through his hammer and hot embers than through other people- but watching Rapid Springs as of late had been a different kind of study. He didn't claim to know all that was goin' on between Ninomiya, Matsumoto, and the sheriff, but he did know that Matsumoto had politely declined his offer of a place to sleep since the first time Aiba had set out towards Clearwater.

He just didn't know quite what it was supposed to mean.

Aiba pursed his lips, arms crossed, staring at the coach. If the welding was shot, he was gonna have to take the whole damn thing apart to get the whippletree free to work on; screws were a pain to get loose once they'd seen the hot New Mexico sun, that much was for sure. He'd gotten three out into the dirt next to him when the knock came at the side of the building.

"Here," he called back, not bothering to push himself out from under the coach.

"Can only see your legs," Jun laughed, and Aiba could hear the rhythmic thudding of his heels against the packed floor. "Always workin', ain't you?"

"Always something needs fixin'," Aiba answered. Another screw fell loose, and the whippletree clanked noisily away from the singletrees. He grabbed it 'fore it hit the dirt, and pulled it out with him as he disentangled himself from under the coach.

Jun didn't say anything as Aiba readied the coals of the forge, shifting them with the iron poker.

"What's the plan?" he asked, finally, breaking the silence hanging heavy on the air between them.

"Wait, I guess," Jun answered. He sighed, and adjusted his hat with two fingers. "Haven't gotten another letter from Santa Fe, so I guess that means we're still waitin' on the bureaucrats."

Aiba laughed, rubbing at his nose with one arm. "Seems to be the way of things out here, doesn't it?"

Jun sat down on a few of the boxes stacked near the far wall- it was cooler by the opening of the shop, where the breeze could roll in. Aiba wasn't gonna miss the stifling heat of summer once autumn rolled around, even if the winter promised hard tack and salted meat as the stores ran thin. Rapid Springs was still runnin' on empty by way of food; the atmosphere in town was strained. Nagase's shadow hung over all of them, which was probably exactly what the man had wanted.

When the gunman didn't say anything, Aiba started heating his hammer, staring down at the cracks in the bar. "What's your plan?"

"You mean the ambush?" Jun asked.

"Mm," Aiba replied. "I know you done a lot of killin', but attacking even a fake federal stage is rough, isn't it?"

There was a moment of silence, and Jun's boots scraped against the dirt a bit. "Think we deserve this one, don't we? After what he's done to Rapid Springs."

The other man didn't voice the last half of the statement- _after what he's done to me_ \- but Aiba heard it anyway, catching in the back of Jun's throat. It was a point he couldn't argue, and didn't really want to. He just brought his hammer down hard on the iron, watching as the metal glowed orange and bent under the heat.

"Anyway, I think-" Aiba didn't know what Jun was gonna say, but he never got the chance; there were rapid-fire hooves outside the shop, hard and fast against the main drag, and then Ohno was climbing out of his saddle faster than Aiba had ever seen the man move. He was breathing hard, hair askew- been riding hard, and he was alone. Sheriff was nowhere in sight.

Jun was on his feet in a flash, 'fore Aiba even had time to drop his hammer. Beyond Ohno's panting mare, he could see Nino leaving the front door of the saloon, moving up the hill to join them.

"Plan's changed," Ohno wheezed, as soon as his boots hit the ground. "Plan's off."

"Wait, plan's off?" Jun asked. "Why?"

"Didn't let us go to Nagase's alone."

"Shit," Jun hissed, and one hand went up to touch his forehead. "Shit, shit-"

"What do you mean?" Aiba asked, whippletree all but forgotten over the side of the forge, fire still crackling behind him. At the far edge of the forge, Ninomiya's footsteps echoed, til he was standing next to Ohno's sweat-slicked horse. The saloon owner looked worried- could probably sense the trouble on the air easy as he could pour shots.

"Can't ambush now," Ohno explained. "Got two federal marshals with us, and Nagase sent for his lawyer. Whole thing's screwed up."

"Well, we can't just let Nagase go," Nino snapped.

"Ain't got much choice now, do we?" Aiba asked. There was a sinking in his stomach; all the work Sho had put in getting the feds to look at Nagase's holdings, and all they were gonna do was put him on trial for cattle rustling? Wet stock was nothin' compared to paying Mendoza into attacking Rapid Springs.

"Sheriff wants Jun and Nino," Ohno said. His gaze flitted across the two. "Wants you out there."

"For what?" Jun asked.

There was a long silence that stretched on like the damn desert dunes, and Ohno just shrugged helplessly. Nino looked angry, Jun looked confused, and Aiba couldn't stop the disappointment he felt. Federal marshals- they were right outta luck, now. The feds were too much to try to go against... weren't they?

"Says you'll know what to do," Ohno said.

It was obvious by the tightening of Jun's features that it was a lot to ask- man had to feel trapped by the situation.

"Give me your badge," Nino demanded, to Aiba, holding his hand out in expectation. Aiba could only stare at him.

"That's what the sheriff said," Ohno murmured, with an odd sidelong glance at the saloon owner, who ignored any implications it might have held.

"What are you gonna do?" Aiba asked without moving, without reaching for the iron on his lapel. "You gonna go against the feds? You can't do nothing with them there, you know that."

"Give me your badge, deputy," Nino hissed. "You heard Satoshi. Sheriff gave you an order."

Aiba looked helplessly at Jun, but the gunman was lost in his own thoughts, and offered him nothing. The fire at his back was hot and crackling like gunpowder, and his heart was pounding in his ears. Should scrap the whole thing- should call it all off. Might not get Nagase on murderin' charges, but at least the feds would get the man on his other crimes. Had to be enough, didn't it? They couldn't risk everything 'gainst the federal government.

"I don't think-" he started, and Jun uncrossed his arms quite suddenly, sucking in a sharp breath.

"Give Ninomiya your badge."

"What?" Aiba stared. "No, I-"

"Just do it," Jun snapped.

"You got a plan, Matsumoto?" Ohno asked. His voice was softer- accepting. His horse stamped at the ground, and it just echoed Aiba's frustration.

Jun laughed, and the sound was decidedly mirthless. "No. But we gotta do somethin'."

"I don't like this," Aiba said, but even as the words left his lips, he knew he'd lost. Sheriff had jurisdiction, and he had to respect that, even if he didn't agree with it. Fingers tingling, he took the badge off his vest and gingerly placed it in Nino's palm. "Someone's gonna get hurt."

"Too late for that," Ninomiya growled, and his hand closed down tightly 'round the deputy sigil.

"They're _federal marshals_ ," Aiba warned.

"And Nagase's a fuckin' crook," Nino shot back. "Let's go, Jun."

Helpless, Aiba watched as the two started off out of the shop to get horses tethered to the hitching posts near the saloon.

"You think it's gonna go bad?" he asked, when they were out of earshot and it was only Ohno standing next to him.

"Dunno," came the answer. "Just dunno."

Aiba swallowed hard. "Me neither."


	12. Chapter 12

The horses were getting tired, but Jun had insisted they set off immediately and stop as little as possible. Which irked Nino something terrible, seeing as how he was still supposed to be a man in recovery. Doc Ogura had shaken his head at him as they’d rode out of town hours earlier.

But Jun was consumed with his thoughts. Nino could tell. The other man had said very little all the way back to Nagase’s, but his face told the whole story. He was worried about the sheriff being there at the ranch. Much as the man was occasionally incompetent, he wasn’t a total fool. Nino knew Sho could take care of himself, and he had two federal marshals with him to boot. Nagase wasn’t dumb enough to take their lives in his own house.

Jun wasn’t the trusting sort though. He was the only one of them who really knew Nagase and what he was capable of. But what the hell were they going to do? Morning was just peeking over the mountains as they approached, and Jun held up his horse at the start of the former Confederate’s lands.

“You’re going in as Aiba,” Jun said, finger flicking nervously over the hole in the brim of his hat. “Don’t think Nagase would know you from Adam, so you should be alright.”

“And you?” Nino asked, the deputy’s badge feeling strange and out of place on his vest. “We can’t ambush them when they head off for Santa Fe unless you’re feeling suicidal. Now if you’re here just to make sure your sweetheart’s safe, I’m turning tail and riding right back.”

Jun snorted. “Shut your hole.”

He laughed. “Calm down, I’m just teasin’ this time.”

“Can’t calm down,” Jun grumbled. “Whole plan’s gone south. Well. Not much we can do about that. Bound to happen once you get feds involved. They foul everything up.”

“Sure do.”

Jun licked his lips, and Nino looked away. Things were done between them. Settled. Over and finished, he told himself. Soon as they took care of Nagase, Jun would be gone and Nino could forget the man had ever come back to Rapid Springs. He could get on with his life.

“Alright. You go in, say your hellos to the Sheriff and the Marshals. You figure out the route they’re taking…”

“You ain’t staging the ambush still? Are you crazy?”

Jun shook his head. “No, not ambushing. I’ll ride ahead, put a shot right through the coach glass.”

“You couldn’t make that shot. It’ll be him and his lawyer and one of the marshals in there, that’s a big risk.”

“Just find out the route, Ninomiya, I don’t care if it’s a trick shot.”

He sighed. There were men that existed who were just as stubborn as he was. It would be one hell of a shot. “Fine. I’ll find the route. But how do I tell you?”

“Never you mind. I know Nagase’s property. I’ll keep an eye on you, probably sneak into the barn. You just find your way over there before you take off, and I’ll ride ahead.”

Nino gave the uneasy horse a pat on the neck. “This isn’t good. Then again, we seem to have some dumb luck, three of us, when we’re workin’ together. Killin’ folk in town, getting Mendoza, moving them cows…luck’s gonna run out, Jun.”

Jun nodded. “Nagase’s been lucky too. Something’s gotta give.” With that, Jun gave his horse a kick and took off, moving to head around the rear of Nagase’s property so he could sneak in. Nino sighed, urging his own mare forward. This wouldn’t be pretty, he could feel it in his bones.

The ride up to the house was one of the longest of his life. Would he get there and find two dead U.S. marshals and one arrogant Yankee, left for the flies and the vultures? Would Nagase come out of his house shooting? And the hell was he supposed to say? It was up to Jun and Sho to get the rest of this stupid plan moving. Much as Nino wanted the man dead, it would have been far easier to just show up and get him in a rain of bullets.

He dismounted near the main house, adjusting the star uneasily as his boots hit the porch steps. “Sheriff Sakurai?”

Instead, he was greeted at the screen door by a man in a bandanna who eyed him suspiciously. “You Sakurai’s deputy?”

“Yes sir. Masaki Aiba, sir. From Rapid Springs.”

The screen door opened. “Nakai. U.S. Marshals. Sakurai said he was calling you up here to help with the prisoner…well, to help with the transport.” This Nakai still didn’t like him. “Who’s watching your town? You deputize someone?”

Nino hesitated. The hell was he supposed to say? “Ah…no. No, the blacksmith is in charge right now. Folks’ll keep a good watch until we get back from Santa Fe, Marshal.”

“Well, come in then. Don’t see why we need you too, but Sakurai says you done more than your fair share in keeping the town safe from hoodlums. If you think it’s gonna get either of you a promotion you can keep dreaming.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nino followed the irritated Marshal into the house to find Sho standing underneath a sword mounted on the wall. Must have been Nagase’s officer’s weapon. It was a mite intimidating. Sho and the Marshal both looked exhausted, and Nino soon discovered why.

Sitting in a chair in the center of the room was Nagase himself, and he was a big man, even seated with dark black whiskers and cold-blooded eyes. He had on the Confederate jacket, even in the stuffy house. Wouldn’t take much for him to get Sho and this Nakai out of the way. No wonder neither of the two men had slept. There was no trusting that this man would let them live.

Sho stretched, joints popping. “Marshal Nakai, you mind if I have a chat with my Deputy?”

Nakai reached for his holster, reminding the unarmed Nagase that he was armed. “Make it quick. Ishibashi’ll be back soon, and we’re movin’ out. Not waiting for you farm boys.”

Nino smarted at that. What did this Marshal asshole know about him? But Sho grabbed him roughly, thankfully by his good arm, and led him back through the house to another room, Nagase’s study by the looks of the desk and bookshelves within.

“So where’s Jun?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I’m fine, Sheriff, thanks for asking.”

“Nino…”

He kept his voice low. “Fine, fine. He’s sneaking about the place. You know the route we’re taking north?”

Sho thought. “Well, probably the easiest and quickest. Back up through the pass, go through the town and over the bridge.”

“Okay, I’ll tell Jun that. He’s going to see how good a shot he is.”

The sheriff looked nervous. “That’s his plan?”

“You left it up to him.” Nino walked over, easing himself down to sit on Nagase’s desk. “He’s going to take a shot. If he gets Nagase, he gets Nagase. If not, then you get to see him stand trial in Santa Fe I suspect.”

Sho looked disappointed. “Nagase knows all our names now. And he has friends in the capital.”

“Not my problem, Sheriff. Told you from the get go this was a damn fool plan…”

Nino’s eye caught on something shiny. The morning sun was coming through the study window on a glass display case. All of Nagase’s loot, his spoils of war, he suspected. He couldn’t look away, shuffling along the floorboards until he couldn’t get much closer.

His gut turned over inside him, and he wanted to vomit. “What?” Sho was asking from behind him. “What is it?”

Sitting inside the case, jumbled in with other assorted trinkets was a locket. Not just any locket, he realized, feeling his eyes start to burn and his limbs start to shake. It was her locket. He’d recognize the ivy incised into the silver any day. It hadn’t been on her when he’d gotten there, finding her skirts at her hips and their dirty fingerprints on her thighs.

Stolen, the old sheriff had told him. Anything of value had been taken by the bandits. The bandits who’d never been caught. Left no trace of who’d hired them. But here, in the case, was the locket he’d given her. The symbol of the promise they’d made, and it was sitting in this man’s house. Tossed in their like some sick trophy.

He couldn’t focus. Couldn’t think. Could barely breathe. “Need to open this case.”

Sho was behind him then. “What? You find something?”

“Said I need to open this case, Sheriff.” He pulled at the glass door. Locked. No matter. Pulling up his arm, he put his elbow through the glass, shattering it.

“Nino, what are you doing?”

There was a shout from the other room, the Marshal, but Nino paid him no mind. Sho was tugging at him, telling him to stop, but he could only see the locket and the chain. He remembered the delicate neck it had been around, and how the last time he’d seen that neck there’d been deep purple welts on it.

Nino brushed some of the broken shards aside, little prickles stinging his fingers as the glass cut him. He pulled the locket out, balling it up in his bloody left fist. A fresh burst of pain from his wound shot up that arm from the tightening of the muscles, but he didn’t much care. “This ain’t his property.”

The chain wrapped around his knuckles as he turned to let his vision focus on the holster at Sho’s hip. He’d left his shotgun with the horse. Didn’t think it right to enter a man’s house armed if he was posing as Aiba. He yanked at the holster, pulling the gun away before Sho could stop him.

He pointed the pistol at the sheriff. “Move.” Sho did, and Nino was barely conscious of what he was doing, pulse rushing and feet carrying him faster than his mind could process. The locket was in this man’s house. Nino was no fool. He could add two and two to make four.

He shoved Nakai aside as he moved through the hallway. “Sheriff, control your deputy or I’ll put a bullet in him!”

Nino made his way back to the front room of the house where Nagase was sitting in the chair. The man just blinked as Nino put the pistol to his forehead. He held up his left arm, feeling the burning pain, and let the locket dangle in Nagase’s face.

“Weren’t yours to take.”

The man dared to smile. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He cocked the hammer. “This got took off a woman who did you no wrong. My intended. The sweetest, most gentle creature you ever saw. This was ripped off of her while you or people you hired raped and killed her.”

Nagase bared his teeth, and Nino felt lightheaded, felt the gun shaking in his hand. “Sure is a pretty locket.”

Ninomiya took a breath.

Closed his eyes.

And pulled the trigger.

\--

He heard the splatter against wood before his brain registered the actual shot that had been fired- everything felt like it was movin' in slow motion, chugging through thick molasses.

"Sheriff!" The angry, howl of a cry was what startled him from his reverie, paces back from the living room where Nagase was sitting- had been sitting. Past tense. Past tense cause Ninomiya just put a fucking bullet through the man's fucking brain. "Deputy Aiba, you are hereby under arrest by the jurisdiction appointed to me by the federal government-"

Sho's chest felt so tight he could barely breathe. He stumbled, half-running, into the living room to see Nakai with his revolver aimed straight at Nino, and Nino's damn eyes glazed over with something Sho couldn't discern, fingers wrapped tightly 'round the necklace glinting in the morning sunlight. There were red splash-backs all over the place, on Nino's face, on his sleeves, on the badge shimmering on his vest.

"-of the United States of America," Nakai was continuing, jaw clenched so tight Sho could see veins popping out in the man's neck.

And then Nino's arm swung out widely, finger still poised over the hot trigger.

"Fuck you!" he screamed. He was aiming the muzzles at Nakai- _he was aiming at a god damn United States Marshal._

"I'll see your ass hanged for this, Deputy!" Nakai shouted back. Flecks of spit were flying from his mouth. "I'll see your ass quartered and fucking drug 'cross town, you murderin' sonofa bitch!"

"He got what was comin' to him!" Ninomiya practically shrieked. There was something so fierce in his gaze that Sho wasn't sure he would have recognized the man, features contorted in rage. He was splattered in bits of crimson and gray. "He got what he deserved!"

"You are under arrest!" Nakai just kept shouting, over and over again, like the echoes of the bullet that were sounding in Sho's head.

And Nino's finger curved around the trigger.

Maybe it was the rage that blinded him- he was feet away from the marshal and missed the man wide enough to ding the doorframe. Maybe it was that he was using Sho's revolver and not his shotgun, maybe it was the fact that there was so much of Nagase's head on his face he couldn't see straight- didn't matter. He missed, and Nakai dove behind an upholstered chair, and Nino kept shooting.

"Nino!" Sho hollered, flattening himself against the side of the wall, half-hidden behind a large oak bookcase. "Nino, stop it!"

A bullet crashed through the living room window, sending shattered pieces of glass all over the woven rug beneath it- Nakai was shooting back. Sho couldn't tell what was goin' on with the bullets flying through the air, and the sound was so loud it was nearly deafening.

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck_ \- it was a mantra inside his thoughts, halting everything else. He had to stop Nino- had to stop Nakai. Had to stop both of them.

A shot hit only a few feet away from his head, close enough to make his heart leap to his throat in fear. He didn't know whose it was or who was shooting at him. Maybe they didn't either. But either way, they were completely fucked- Nagase's body was slumped over the side of the chair, and his blood was on the walls, and Nakai had seen everything.

"Nino!" Sho just kept yelling, and he didn't even know if the man could hear him. Ninomiya didn't look like he could hear anything. He'd gotten back behind the very chair Nagase's crumpled form was in, on his knees on the glass shards covering the rug.

"He deserved it!" he barely heard over the crossfire. Another ping close to his form, and he gasped, sliding down the wall with one shoulder against the bookshelves.

"Nino, stop!" he tried in vain. The necklace in the man's hand- oh god, the necklace. It had been hers, hadn't it? Oh god, it had been hers, the shot through Jun's shoulder- "Nino!"

"I'm not gonna arrest you!" Nakai shouted from Sho's left side, behind the opposite chair. "I'm gonna kill you!"

Nino replied with something garbled and incomprehensible, and when his finger closed 'round the trigger, there was a click where there should have been the bang of a bullet. He was out. Sho's revolver chambers were emptied into the walls of Nagase's living room. Nakai stood from his place, muzzle still trained on the chair Nino was kneeling behind.

"I'm gonna kill you for murder, you cocksucking scum," Nakai hissed, and his thumb hit the hammer of his gun.

"No!" Sho cried, but he was weaponless, and Nakai was gaining on Nino with every stomping, purposeful stride. "Nakai, don't!"

But his voice was lost on both men, and Nakai rounded the corner to level the barrel at Nino's head.

The blast nearly made Sho retch.

When Nakai's body slackened and fell, the gun slipped from his hand to clatter on the floorboards. And outside through the broken glass, there was still smoke curling up from Jun's revolver.

For several agonizingly long moments, nothing moved save for the pools of blood that were expanding and mingling on the floor. Sho couldn't take his eyes off where the side of Nakai's head had once been.

"Jesus," Nino gasped.

"Oh, God," Sho whispered. His hands were shaking. Nakai's eyes were still open. Jun's boots thudded inside, and he hauled Nino to his feet with one arm, stepping gingerly around the crimson spreading 'cross the ground and soaking into the rug.

"Dammit, Nino," the gunman swore. From the hiss of pain that fell from Nino's mouth, Jun's grip was tighter than hell. "What the shit is wrong with you?"

"Jun," Sho wheezed. He couldn't get himself to his feet. "Jun, you shot a marshal. _You shot a United States Marshal_."

Nino just thrust the hand still holding the necklace in Jun's face, locket swinging wildly. "He did this! He did all of this!"

Sho could see Jun's eyes sweep over the trinket, but there was too much else going on to focus. There was blood everywhere- Lord Almighty, there was blood everywhere-

"They're comin' back," Sho choked out, feeling strangled. Felt like the life was bein' squeezed out of him in painful, wracking spasms. "They're comin' back and they're gonna see. We can't hide this. We can't hide this."

Jun was in front of him, pulling him upright and on his feet, and he could see the same realization on the gunslinger's features. He knew. He knew pullin' that trigger what was gonna happen. Ishibashi and the lawyer were due back anytime, and they had two still warm bodies lying in pools of blood in Nagase's living room.

"Sho, come on," he was saying, but Sho couldn't really hear him. They would know. Feds knew who was there, governor had sent them personally. Even if they ran, they'd get traced back easy to Rapid Springs. Ain't no way to get away from this.

Sho's legs moved without him really thinking about movin' them. Nino had dropped his emptied revolver and it had fallen half-under the chair. He reached for it, brushing across the pool of blood.

"Go," he breathed, pushing at Jun with one hand while he re-holstered his gun. "Go."

"What?" Jun snapped.

"Go!" Sho cried. He gestured widely towards the door still open from where Jun had entered. "Go, get outta here!"

"You can't stay!" Jun said. He grabbed for Sho's arm, but the sheriff side-stepped away.

"They're comin' back!" Sho yelled, and it was true- he could see dust in the distance, see Ishibashi and the lawyer on the edge of the visible property. They were too late to stop it, and too soon to allow Sho to do anything else- there was no other choice. Emotion stung in the corners of his eyes, and he shoved at Jun's shoulder again. "Go, dammit, go!"

Jun staggered backwards, eyes haunted. Behind him, Nino was just starin' off out the broken window, face glazed and expressionless. Jun's hand reached for Nino's sleeve, and tugged.

"C'mon," he mumbled, but his gaze never broke from Sho's. There were hands gathered outside, watching- curious eyes were everywhere. They'd be seen, but that couldn't be helped. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe Sho staying would be enough- Lord, Jesus Christ, Sho didn't know.

His heart was choking him in his throat.

"Go," he just whispered again, even as Jun was halfway out the door and draggin' Ninomiya behind him.

He watched until the two disappeared 'round the side of the house, and the air grew still, and the pounding hooves from Ishibashi and the solicitor filled his senses completely.

\--

Nino was still dragging, and Jun almost had to pick the man up as he pulled him to Nagase’s barn. None of the hands had followed. He forced Ninomiya up the ladder to the hay loft, and he followed. From here, out the barn door, they could see the porch. Sho was still inside. What the hell was he thinking? They had to run!

Jun had his horse around back, and Nino’s was still in the front, still wearing the shoes Aiba had made for it. Shotgun and supplies could get traced back to Rapid Springs too. His heart was in his throat as two men approached on horseback. One had the star of a marshal, the other had glasses and a fine suit. Nagase’s lawyer.

Nino was gone, somewhere else entirely as he cradled the locket and chain. Jun remembered it. He’d never forget it. Ninomiya had found her murderer and killed him, and if their places were switched, he’d have done the same. But this was the worst possible timing. Jun just let Nino try and heal as he kept watch on the house.

The marshal knew something was wrong immediately and he started barking at the confused looking ranch hands, kids really, who were standing around outside the house. The man’s voice was carrying the other way, but obviously the hands were telling the newest arrivals that they’d heard gunshots in the house.

It took all his willpower not to climb down and let a round find the marshal and the lawyer between the eyes. But he sure as hell didn’t have enough ammo or speed to get the gathered workers. They were fucked. The marshal and the lawyer hurried inside, and the screen door slammed. Seconds later, the lawyer came running back out to retch violently into the dirt.

There was hollering, a whole lot of it. “I screwed it all up,” Nino was mumbling. “Jun, I’m sorry…”

“Be quiet,” he hissed back, straining his eyes to try and see through the windows, but the porch overhang wouldn’t let him. If there was another gunshot, it was over. But he didn’t want to think about that.

He inhaled sharply as Sho nearly went flying through the screen door, landing hard on the porch. “Where is he?” he finally heard as the marshal’s voice carried all the way to the barn. “Ain’t gone far! He left his horse!”

Shit. They were gonna think Aiba was some murderer. Aiba who did no harm to anyone. But Sho had said to go. Sho had pushed him and Nino out the door. He didn’t want help. He wanted to do this himself, god damn him. “…shot each other!” Sho screamed at the top of his lungs as he struggled to get to his feet.

The marshal wasn’t having none of it, and anger burned in Jun’s veins as the lawman landed a punch right on Sho’s face. He wanted to kill him. He had a clear shot. But Sho had made it so they could leave. The lawyer had gotten on his horse again and was already off into the dust.

Sho was hauled to his feet again, face bloodied, and said nothing. Jun could only watch in horror as the marshal handcuffed him and forced him up onto the horse Nino had left tethered. The lawman ran a rope between his own horse and Sho’s. The sheriff of Rapid Springs was under arrest.

“He let us get away,” Nino mumbled, staring at the locket. “He’s taking the fall so the town can be safe.”

“No,” Jun said. “Won’t let that happen.”

The marshal shouted for all the hands to go back to their homes, for no one to go into the house. Jun imagined there’d be folks from Santa Fe there in a few days, but by then the house would stink. Was he arresting Sho for not talking or for committing the crime? He had to know.

Sho kept his head down, solemnly letting the marshal bring him along, and Jun watched them disappear down the trail. The hands, still not sure what had happened to their boss didn’t feel like going against a fed’s orders and soon they too dispersed. It was just him and Ninomiya and Nagase’s miles and miles of grazing lands.

He started down the ladder, nearly quaking with anger. Why was Sho being so stupid? Why was he doing this? Nino followed him quietly. To the south was Rapid Springs – there’d be waiting and there’d be doubt. Nagase was dead, but would the sheriff come back? To the north was Santa Fe – Sho was gonna be interrogated for sure. Jun couldn’t leave him alone, not after this.

“Nino.”

The man was shoving the necklace in his pocket and finally wiped the spatters of blood and gray off of his face. “You ain’t comin’ with me.”

Jun nodded. “You need to get Aiba his star back. Don’t tell them what happened. Rapid Springs don’t need to be a part of this.”

Nino looked more annoyed than anything. “And when they ask what happened to their sheriff?”

“Tell them he’s done everything he can to protect them. Everything.”

He left Nino behind, moving back around Nagase’s house to find his horse. He was tired. He hadn’t slept much and had eaten little. But there was a cold, lonely cell waiting for Sheriff Sakurai in Santa Fe, and it was his fault. Turning himself in would make Sho’s own sacrifice meaningless. But there was no way in hell Jun was leaving him to face the crooks in Santa Fe alone.

He mounted up, spurring the horse along. His eyes were fixed on the northern horizon, and he wasn’t stopping ‘til he hit the capital.

\------

It took a very long time for Nino's thoughts to clear. A long time, and hours spent riding back to Rapid Springs, and when the horse's hooves finally hit the main road, he was exhausted and shaky from the fire leaving his blood. He knew Aiba and Ohno were waiting for him- knew they would want to know what went down, but was still choking on Jun's words. He couldn't get them involved. Sho had given Rapid Springs' its freedom.

Ninomiya didn't think he could touch the significance of that.

He should have gone to Aiba's shop. Should have turned right there and given the man's badge back, but he didn't. He dismounted and his legs carried him to the church without his own volition, past the rickety walls and white-washed crucifix to the cemetary past the bend. He didn't know what he was doin' or what his plan was, but his legs did- his heart did. Somethin' inside was screaming for her with every breath he sucked in.

His knees hit the dirt just before her tombstone.

There were a million thoughts going through his head, a hundred and one things he wanted to say, and not a single one could escape his lips. It was as if there was too much and not enough to put into words. The engraving on the granite just stared back at him, and he reached up to let his fingertips trail through the embeveled words.

And then it hit him all at once, like a fist to his gut, and he leaned over the slightly unstable stone with both arms thrown over the top, teardrops splattering on the top of it. He wasn't entirely sure what he was crying about- the end? The reality? The blood still on his sleeves?

Nino pulled out the silver necklace from his pocket, fingers tightening around the locket. "I miss you. God, I miss you so much."

The image of the ivy etched into the trinket would never leave his mind. It was burned into his memory, just like the bruises on her thighs were, the broken blood vessels on her neck. But more than anything, he could see Nagase's blood splattered on the far wall. He could smell the bite of it, taste the copper on his tongue.

"It's over," he whispered, lips against cold stone. The words came out as a strangled gasp. "It's over."

His fingers hit the carved corners again, and he tried breathing deeply, attempting to quell the flow of salt from his eyes. "It's alright, now, ain't it? It's alright now. He's dead. I got him for you."

Nino closed his eyes- it didn't hurt as much. It was lessening, in a way. The tightness that he'd grown so used to, so accustomed to- it was uncoiling, bit by bit, inch by inch. It felt free. And the oddest thing was, he hadn't known he was ever trapped. The bars had been so close he hadn't registered them.

He kissed the smooth surface of the stone, and sighed. "Think it's gonna be alright now."

He sat up, and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hands. His head was throbbing, temples achin' something awful, but it was everything. Everything had come to a head and he was tryin' to sort it all out; a headche was the least of his worries.

He held the necklace up, locket twirling in the setting sunlight. It shimmered, and he smiled a little bit.

"I know," he said, and laughed a bit. "You prolly ain't happy with the way things worked out, either. Never did like violence."

He leaned over and draped the necklace across the left corner of the gravestone. It clinked once against the rock, and then hung still. Nino pushed himself back, both palms curving over the rounded top.

"I love you. I always will."

The breeze brushed against his cheek like feather-light kisses. He stood, and gave the grave a final nod, brushing flecks of dirt from where they clung at the threads of his trousers. When he walked away, his heart didn't feel so heavy.

He found Ohno near the saloon, unloading boxes of staples from an unhitched trailer- supplies. The goods had finally come to replace the ones lost to the fire. Rapid Springs might be okay, after all. Nino stopped just beyond the shadow of the wheels, and Ohno turned to look at him. The baker didn't seem surprised to see him.

Nino nodded towards the crates. "Need some help?"

"Sure," Ohno said.

And when Ohno's slow, unassuming smile spread across his face, Nino couldn't help but grin back.

\-----

He’d expected the circumstances of his return to Santa Fe to be far different. Nagase, murdered by outlaws on the road, he’d expected to regretfully report to the governor. Instead, Nagase had been killed by Nino and Marshal Nakai shortly thereafter. He could still see the blood, pooling, soaking into one of Nagase’s rugs. He could still hear the bullets flying past. Everything had gone to hell, and it was his turn to make things right.

Ishibashi had barely spoken to him on the ride back. For as annoying as Sho himself had found Nakai, it seemed the two marshals had been partnered for years. The other man was feeling the loss strongly, had put all that emotion and anger into punching him, sending him flying out the door of Nagase’s house.

And Sho had taken it. They wouldn’t convict him. Not enough motive. They couldn’t pin him with two murders when he’d been the one opening the investigation with the governor himself. But he should’ve known that Nagase would have mentioned his suspicions to the marshals.

As Ishibashi hauled him to the Santa Fe jail, a far cry from the small two-room sheriff’s station in Rapid Springs, Sho hoped Jun was just gone. If he was smart, he would be in Mexico by now or even further south, on his way to find odd jobs in South America. He’d be a fool to stick around New Mexico territory.

He was shoved into a cool, adobe cell like a common criminal, and Sho had never seen the bars from the other side before. The marshal stood there, locking him up, and his eyes were dark. “You stickin’ to this fairy tale, Sakurai?”

The fairy tale in question, that Nakai and Nagase had killed each other, wasn’t gonna fool nobody. Sho had told the marshal that he’d been out taking a piss when the guns started going off. The two men were hotheads enough that the folks running the inquest might believe it. Sho could just get himself in trouble for leaving his post.

But the horse, Nino’s horse…well, Sho didn’t know how to account for that. “Got nothing more to say that I haven’t already told you, Marshal.”

Ishibashi shifted his weight from foot to foot, boots scraping the floor. “And you know nothing about the other guy? This Matsumoto?”

Sho did his best not to react, hoping he looked just as shocked and confused. “No sir."

The marshal spat on the floor, meeting his eyes one more time. “Governor’ll want an official investigation. They’ll be wanting to talk to you tomorrow.”

Sho simply nodded. He was going to tell the same story, no matter what. Doing this kept Rapid Springs in the clear. Kept Ninomiya clean – and Jun too. He hoped. The marshal headed off, leaving Sho alone. They were keeping him isolated, away from the common crooks – whether that was because of his star or because of the severity of Nakai’s loss, he didn’t know. All he could do was stare between the small iron bars that marked his window and pray.

\--

The next day they left him stewin’ in the cell until past noon. They’d fed him well, so Sho was realizing that he wasn’t going to be charged with the murders themselves. But he was still in a cell, and it probably wouldn’t end in his best interests.

They escorted him to the courthouse, and people in the street stopped to stare. They hadn’t bothered to strip Sho’s badge from him, so it gleamed as other marshals took him from the jail to the courtroom. It wasn’t a formal trial, but there were a few curious locals in the viewing gallery. He only gave the balcony a cursory glance as they had him sit right in the witness chair.

There was an old man crouching over paper, ready to take his statement. Ishibashi was there and a few men he recognized from the governor’s office. There was a judge, but Sho suspected it was just to keep order. He wasn’t even wearing his robes. “Sheriff Sho Sakurai?” the judge asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“We’re here today to determine what the hell went wrong at Tomoya Nagase’s ranch. If you could do your utmost to provide truthful testimony, it would make this all a lot easier.” Ishibashi was watching him, probably wondering if he was still going to stick with his story. No matter what, he wasn’t going to let them put the blame on Jun. Didn’t matter how many times his name came up – Sho wasn’t gonna crack.

This was his chance to prove once and for all that it hadn’t been a complete mistake to come out west. The dime novels had been full of outlaws and rogues, heroes and lawmen. None of it came close to what Sho had lived since he’d left Boston, but maybe…just maybe he could live the life he’d intended. To protect those that were under his care. Ensure their continued security. And make sure anyone else thought twice before targeting his town again.

If that meant testifying to a lie, covering up the truth to keep crooks and murderers from Rapid Springs, then it was just what he had to do. And damn the consequences. He felt a sudden clarity as he sat in the witness box, a strange calm washing over him like the water from a baptism.

He hadn’t tried before. He’d been all bluster. All bark and no bite. He’d relied too heavily on Aiba, on others entering the town like Jun. Sho had doubted himself, let his allegiance to what his star meant overpower real justice. There’d be no justice in the Santa Fe court, nothing in the badge on his chest that determined right from wrong. So long as folks like Nagase called the shots and kept the governor and his cronies smoking the finest cigars, there was nothing a Yankee sheriff could do to change things.

And so he’d lie. Turn away from Santa Fe and away from everything he’d believed in so strongly when he’d left Boston. Everything he’d written to his mother and father back east. There was no right and wrong out here. You folded and got out of the way or you were a dead man.

One of the other lawmen in the court brought up a Bible, and Sho didn’t even blink. Weeks earlier, swearing on the word of the Lord would have meant something. But he didn’t need to put his hand on God’s book to know that his lies today were better than any truth.

His palm was a bit clammy as he placed it on the leather-bound book, holding up his other hand. Jesus, forgive me.

“Sheriff Sakurai, will you swear that your testimony will be fair, accurate and to the best of your knowledge, so help you God?”

He thought about Aiba, a hammer striking against iron. He thought about Ohno, pulling a fresh loaf of bread out of the oven. He even thought about Ninomiya, pouring a round of drinks (and watering them down but charging the same price) for some thirsty farm hands. Each face from Rapid Springs, each wanting a better life, a safe place for their family to live.

Sho thought about Jun, encouraging him when nobody else could. The feel of the man’s warm body beside his own, finding solace just in knowing they weren’t alone in this awful place.

“I swear.”


	13. Chapter 13

Jun would have sworn- on the very bible Sakurai's hand had just been on- that everyone sitting around him could hear his heartbeat pounding. It was so loud that it blocked out all other sound. Sho- oh God, noble Sho- was sitting in the interrogation seat 'tween men lookin' to crucify him for the two murders, and they weren't gonna let him off. Jun was crouched near the back, behind two men with big, burly shoulders, hoping no one was gonna take notice of him. So far, no one had- they were too interested in the sheriff bein' questioned. Wasn't everyday a man of the law got hauled in like a common criminal.

He knew. He had to know- Sho had to know, sitting there, taking the blame- he had to know they would tie as much of the noose 'round his neck as they could. Two men were lying dead and they had no one to pin it on cause of his word.

"Sheriff Sakurai, I'll ask one more time," the angry solicitor said, and palms slammed down on the dais. "What really happened at Nagase's ranch?"

Sho stared ahead, face carefully blank. "Nakai and Nagase shot each other, sir."

"And why was your gun empty?"

Jun's breath caught in his throat- Sho, stop it. Stop it, just tell them. Tell them it was me-

"Nagase grabbed it from my holster. Used it to shoot Nakai," Sho answered. There was no warbling to his tone- didn't the man realize his hand had been on the Word of the Lord? He was lying in front of the very law he'd sworn to uphold, in the court of the land, 'fore the eyes of Jesus Christ.

Jun's lungs burned.

"Tomoya Nagase was shot in his chair, sheriff," the lawman snapped. "You meanin' to tell me a United States Marshal fired five rounds around Nagase 'fore he hit him?"

Sho didn't even blink. "Guess so. Wasn't there to see it."

"And that someone else's horse just happened to end up tethered outside the front while you were out re-fastening your britches?"

"Can't tell you what I don't know, sir." Sho's hands were flat against his thighs- he didn't look nervous. He didn't look anything, and Jun didn't know what to make of it.

The lawyer gave out a frustrated sigh, clearly annoyed. He couldn't get much out of a man whose story was two sentences and no answers. The man drummed his fingers against the wood, and even from his vantage point, Jun could see the scowl hanging on his lips. "Sheriff Sakurai, I got about eight reasons to believe you're holdin' information out from me."

Please, Sho, tell them it was me-

But Sho's eyes just fixed straight ahead, on something Jun couldn't see. "Don't know what to tell you, sir."

"You can tell me 'bout this Matsumoto!" the man hollered, finally losing his patience completely. "You can tell me what really happened, and why there's two rounds of bullet holes in a dead man's living room! You can tell me why a United States Marshal was shot under your watch in the three minutes you were conveniently outside!"

There was a ripple that moved through the on-lookers of the court room. Sho, oh Sho-

Maybe Sho's muscles twitched when the man used Jun's name, maybe it was just Jun's imagination. But the sheriff said nothing more, and the solicitor angrily dismissed him, and Jun knew the image of Sho's stolid face would remain in his thoughts as long as his blood ran warm.

\-----

They were keepin' him in a holding cell. They were keepin' him behind bars like he was a common rustler, a thief, a bandit on the pass; the mattress was so old it dipped visibly in the middle, and there were puddles of unknown substances in the corners of the cell walls. It was low, 'bout halfway underground, built so the windows that were level with the prisoner's eyes were only a foot above the dirt outside.

It was a panic-inducing. It was embarrassing, and it was dirty, and it wasn't nearly good enough for a man giving up everything he had for love of a town.

By nightfall, the citizens of Santa Fe had grown bored with the small-town star sitting behind the iron bars, and the streets outside the jail was deserted. Jun slunk by the shadows of the building, inky black in the moonless evening, until he could look in through the slits. Sho was on the bed staring down at his hands- he looked lost. He looked so lost, shoulders hunched, that heat prickled at the corners of Jun's eyes.

It wasn't until Sho looked up with raised eyebrows that Jun realized he'd uttered the man's name out loud.

"What are you doin' here?" Sho hissed, on his feet and over to the barred opening in seconds. "Should be halfway to California by now! Why are you still hangin' around? I gave you the opening- go, dammit!"

Jun's fingers burned 'round the bars. When he knelt, they were at eye-level, floor of the cell dipping down below the matted dirt road.

"Sho," he choked out again. Shame was welling in his vision in the form of salty stings- his hands, his hands- Sho had protected him with everything he could, with his badge, with his reputation. And Jun had repaid him by betraying him. He could still see Nino's face, hear the man's gasping groans- "Sho, I-"

"Don't do this," Sho said. "Please, get out of here. Get out 'fore they find you."

It couldn't be possible to feel more burn in his belly than Jun did then. "Sho- Nino- Nino and I-"

He had to know. Had to know with Jun's hands shakin' so bad against the bars, had to know from everything. And he just stood there waitin' for the damn words to fall out of Jun's mouth. Jun couldn't stop them- he was past stopping them.

"God, I'm so sorry," he gasped. "Sho, I'm so sorry-"

\--

He should have been angry with what Jun was telling him. Admitting that he and Nino had gone and done something. But Sho was past anger. He'd done his fair share of jealous and petty things, and Jun was by no means tied to him. Hadn't they had this argument half a dozen times since they'd met? And Sho had always been the one with the accusing tone, the one taking Jun's actions and twisting them. Letting his own insecurities and self-doubt eat at him until he snapped.

And yet Jun kept coming back. Ninomiya had been a wedge between them, but as Jun knelt down in the darkness outside his cell, nearly begging Sho to forgive him, the sheriff realized that it didn't matter. Sho himself had been a wedge. His faith had pushed Jun away. His jealousy had pushed Jun away. And his god damn stubborn behavior had pushed Jun away. But he was here now, wasn't he? He could have been anywhere, living free and easy. But he was here.

Sho stepped forward, prying the fingers of Jun's hand off the iron and intertwined them with his own. “Don't matter. It don't matter.”

“Does.”

He squeezed Jun's fingers, willing the man to understand it. For weeks now, Jun had encouraged and reassured and simply stuck with him, even though he'd been immature and a damn asshole to him. It was about time he paid the man back. “You came here, and you're an idiot for it. But for what it's worth, thank you.”

Jun sniffed, wiping the snot from his face with his other hand. “Weeping like a damn woman.”

Sho laughed. Aiba sobbed if one of the local farm animals died – he wasn't unaccustomed to seeing a grown man cry. “You just need sleep.”

He stood there, fingers simply grasping and holding on. They'd be passing judgment on him in the morning. Would they formally charge him? Send him back east? Hang him in the town square? He had no idea.

Had it been so very long since this man had showed up in his town, trying to tell him what to do? Had it been so very long since Sho had run away petrified from Aiba's dark living room, having gotten his first taste of something forbidden?

“Don't know what they'll decide tomorrow. Didn't give them much to work with.”

Jun nodded. “I know.”

“You saw?”

“I was in the balcony.” Jun ran his thumb back and forth over Sho's knuckles, almost a nervous gesture. “Don't the Bible mean nothing to you?”

He laughed, stepping closer to press his forehead against their clasped hands. “When I'm at the pearly gates...or at the devil's back door, I'll deal with what I did. But ain't no way the truth can come out. Didn't really realize that til I got in that box.”

Someone would come check on him. Someone would wander around outside. But he didn't want Jun to go yet. He'd always been selfish about the gunman, hadn't he? He brushed his lips to Jun's wrist, letting his nose linger on the scent of him there. Sho sighed. How many friends had he made in Santa Fe? Would any of them come through? He wondered if any of the parlors in town were filled with influential men that night, slipping money back and forth to determine his fate. Was Ishibashi lobbying in his partner's memory? Were Nagase's friends? Maybe someone would put a warrant out for Jun's whereabouts, but none of that would be because of Sho's testimony.

“Could break you out,” Jun offered, a wry grin crossing his features.

“Would that you could,” he chuckled in return, leaning back to study Jun's face. Things had been so turbulent, hadn't they? He'd punched him, implied all sorts of things about his character. Then again, he'd also seen the man's bullet scar and pressed his lips against it. “Jun, you have to go.”

“Nope. Staying for the decision tomorrow.”

He shook his head. “Shouldn't even be here now. Don't fuck up everything I'm tryin' to do,” he said, letting a smile show at the corners of his mouth. “I will kill you.”

“Sound like Ninomiya.” They were quiet for a few moments. “You scared?”

He thought about it. Sure, he was scared. There was no knowing what would happen in the morning. But he'd survived how many gun fights now? Facing Santa Fe's brand of justice wasn't going to be as terrifying as a bullet whizzing past his ear. “You need to go now.”

“But...”

Sho reached for Jun's face, running his fingers along the man's strong cheekbones and down to trace along his jaw. He had to nearly get on his tiptoes to pull him forward, finding Jun's mouth with far more certainty than he'd ever known. He savored the taste, tongue running to the corner of Jun's lip, catching the salt that had streaked down from his eyes moments earlier. It was awkward positioning, but he had to remember this.

Jun returned the kiss with equal fervor, and though they could barely meet with the limited space between the bars, they made do. They'd been learning and adapting all along, hadn't they? Jun's usually confident hand was shaking as he held onto the back of Sho's head, trying to get them as close as the barrier between them would allow.

“You gotta promise me something,” he whispered, breath hot against Jun's mouth. No time for a crisis of faith, and no time to hesitate. “If I don't come home...”

“Sho, don't you say that.”

He kissed Jun quiet, and his whole body felt lighter than air. He was almost thankful for the wall between them. He'd never get the words out if they were standing together. “If I don't get back to Rapid Springs, if they kill me or lock me up for good or ship me back to Boston, you gotta promise. Enjoy the freedom. Get the hell outta New Mexico. Hire yourself on somewhere, but leave Rapid Springs behind you. And don't you look back.”

“Can't make that promise, Sheriff.”

He nipped at Jun's lip defiantly, and the other man grumbled in irritation. “I ain't done talking yet. Not as pessimistic as you think I am. But promise me that. Please.”

Jun leaned back, brushing his thumb along his lip, and Sho could see the blood trickling. “Promise you.”

“Well,” he said, backing away, breaking all their contact to sit on his mattress. He already felt heavier, as though Jun's touch alone was all that could keep him upright. “You give me a week. Whatever they decide here's what they decide. They let me go, I'm comin' home. I'm gonna put you to work. Ohno's gotta get his place rebuilt, and you're no slouch with a hammer. And otherwise...”

“Ain't gonna be an otherwise,” Jun choked out.

“Otherwise, you go. Hear me?” He spoke up. “You hear me, Matsumoto? You go.”

Jun was utterly silent, and the seconds bled away. The morning came closer with each breath Sho exhaled. He breathed in and out, wondering if he'd ever see Rapid Springs again. Finally, he heard Jun respond, quieter than he'd ever heard him.

“I hear ya.”

Sho moved to lie on his back, finally turning his eyes away from Jun. He shut them tight, letting every moment they'd shared float across his mind's eye. Good and bad, he cherished each one. “One week.”

“One week, Sheriff.”

He listened to the gunman get to his feet, strained his ears so he could hear Jun's boots drag through the dirt until he couldn't hear them any more. Tomorrow would be his judgment day. Sho wasn't gonna lean on anyone, not this time. Every man faced his own end solo, and whatever end or beginning this might be, he'd do it alone.

\-------

Jun felt like his heart was dropping down with the burning orange orb in the sky, past the ridges on the horizon that dotted the desert landscape.

Been seven days, alright. Seven days that he'd nearly thrown his back out helping Ohno start work on rebuilding the shop; seven days of looking up every damn time he heard hooves approaching, hoping to see the face he dreamt about. Seven days when there had been no sheriff in Rapid Springs.

His knuckles were sore and bleeding, and his muscles were aching and trembling in exhaustion, and even as the sun started to set below the dunes, he didn't stop. He didn't know what to do- he'd made a promise, hadn't he? Made a promise he had no intention of needing to keep, and now it was lookin' all the more like he'd have to go through with it.

Jun set down the hammer he'd been holding on a nearby crate, and tried to swallow the tumultuous grief that was clogging his throat.

"Been workin' hard," Ohno commented. The baker's skin was so tanned it was nearly brown.

"Gotta get your shop back up," Jun said, and that much was true. Nino's saloon couldn't very well continue functioning as a storage site for the goods shipments they received any longer. Was gettin' too crowded inside, and takin' away too much of the man's business.

Ohno just opened up another crate of nails, pulling out a sack of them. His expression was neutral. "You been real quiet 'bout Santa Fe."

Jun waited for him to stay more, but nothing came- that was the way about Ohno. He didn't pry, and even the question voiced seemed innocent enough. Jun had kept his mouth shut 'bout what Sho was going through in Santa Fe's dingy little jail. He didn't think the sheriff would want the town knowing what was happening outside of her bounds- kept everyone away from the inquisition, kept everyone else's hands clean. And no one had really asked. Maybe they knew Jun didn't want to talk about it. Other than Nino's shrewd, keen gaze, Jun hadn't had anyone approach him on the subject.

But here it was, seven days in- and no sheriff beside him.

"Dunno what to say," he mumbled into his collar. "Dunno what's happenin'."

It seemed to be enough for Ohno- for now. Jun didn't know if it would be enough tomorrow, when he was gone, and there were no answers for those left behind. The baker sifted through bits of construction pieces, tools that clanked together noisily.

Ohno just put a hand over his eyes to block out the last of the day's sunlight. "Thanks. For helpin'. I mean, with everything."

"You-" Jun said, and then swallowed. "Welcome. Was my pleasure."

Satoshi just smiled at him, and packed the crate back up after finding what he was lookin' for. He stepped over a few wooden beams, leaving Jun alone at the construction site surrounded by planks and discarded hammers from the day's work. Couldn't work much longer, with the sun goin' down- and that was it. Seven days.

Seven days of emotion stuck at the back of his tongue. Seven days of prayin' every morning he wouldn't be alone in the sheriff's station. And seven days of realization growing and roiling in his stomach when the walls were the only things greeting his eyes upon waking.

Jun's footsteps were heavy as he made his way back to the station. He'd be gone the next morning 'fore the sun broke back over the horizon again- made a promise. Didn't matter 'bout much else, just that he'd made that oath. Ain't nothing else he could do for Sho but keep it, as much as it ate him alive, as much as it made his stomach sick like old brandy.

Station was quiet when he entered, and his boots were the only sound scraping against the floorboards.

He sat on the edge of the mattress staring at the leather on his feet, covered in dust and dirt and sawdust from the wood they'd been working with. The place still smelled clean, like soap- like Sho. Like the crispness of the man's shirts folded carefully inside the bureau's drawers.

Would the others wonder what had happened? Would they miss the sheriff who had done so much for them they'd never understand? Most of Rapid Springs wouldn't miss Jun when he was gone. Maybe they'd wonder every once and awhile 'bout that man with the quick hands who'd led the fight against Mendoza, maybe not. Probably didn't really matter. Jun was a face best forgotten- bad things followed him, and the more who got tangled in the brambles, the worse off it was for everyone.

Jun stripped his boots off, and let them hit the floor with thuds. He didn't even bother takin' his clothing off, despite it all smellin' like ash and dust and wood chips. He just fell back into the pillow, inhaling the hint of musk it contained, and tried to forget everything.

He dreamt of Rapid Springs. He dreamt of walking through the center of it, and lookin' down both sides at the bodies piled up there. Nino was there, by the saloon- with his girl, all bright smiles and blonde curls. Their hands were clasped together, and the locket was back on her neck. He saw Aiba with his apron covered in soot, arms crossed. He saw Ohno's gentle smile posed in front of the rebuilt goods store.

There was a figure at the end of the road, but it was blurred by the bright sunlight, and he couldn't make it out. The name stuck in the back of his throat.

He woke to footsteps, and lingering memories of dark hair tangled 'round his fingers.

Could have been anybody- he hadn't exactly locked the front door after stumblin' back inside. Wasn't any light, but he knew the footsteps, knew the gait and sound of them. Knew by the pause that the figure had stilled near the bedroom door.

"Why you still here?" came the tired question. "Ain't supposed to be."

Jun sat up, and reached over to light the candle with trembling hands, using the moonlight streaming in the through the windows to get it going. "Got one night left, don't I?"

There were a hundred things he could have said, and wanted to say, and none of them would come out past his lips. The flickering candlelight threw harsh shadows into the corners of the small room, and made the whole thing look warm- almost like the fire that had licked clean Ohno's shop, few buildings down. Sho looked weary. Lined, like a man who'd seen too much and couldn't forget any of it.

"Yeah," he just said, in response to Jun's inquiry, and started moving inside the bedroom.

"Sheriff?"

Sho shook his head. He stopped in front of the bureau, where a few books were stacked, spines haphazard and not straight. "Not a sheriff anymore."

Jun hadn't even noticed that there wasn't a star on his collar. There was a long moment of silence, when Jun's heart fell down to his stomach. He stared at Sho's back while trying to right the sudden dizziness that overtook him.

"They strip you of it?" he whispered.

"Feds won't have nothin' to do with me now," Sho said. His voice was so hollow, so- gone. Bein' sheriff had been everything to him, but this- this was more than that. Jun could hear it in the underlying nuances of his tone. He knew the sound. He'd been the cause of the sound more than once, more than he wanted to remember.

Jun stood, and the floor was cold beneath his feet. He reached one trembling hand out to Sho's shoulder, keeping his touch gentle. "What'd they do to you?"

With only the light from the single candle, he hadn't been able to see much on the other man's face- was too dark for that. But standing right in front of him, forcing him to turn; Jun could see, could see the bruises marring the skin, could see the broken vessels there. Sho shook his head, chin pointed towards the floor.

"Nagase's men," was all he said. "Feds didn't do this."

It took all Jun's concentration to keep his hands steady. His muscles were trembling in barely restrained rage- he should have stayed. If the man had let him stay, he could have been there, could have stopped it. Could have at least done something about it, but Sho's damn stubbornness had come through.

"What are you gonna do?" Jun asked, fearing the answer.

Something passed across Sho's face then, half-hidden by the purpled welts. "Go back to Boston, I guess."

"No," Jun breathed.

"What else do I got?" Sho laughed, mirthless. "Ain't got a reason here, Jun. I don't got a star anymore. I can't stay in Rapid Springs now."

Jun wanted to shake the man, but he knew there had to be bruises he couldn't see under the shirt and trousers.

"And then what?" he demanded. The last vestiges of sleep were finally gone; he was awake, blood screaming. "Then what do you do?"

Sho shook his head again. "Told you to leave, so leave. Get outta here. They know your name; they'll find you if you stay. I might not have given them information, but they'll still be watchin' for you. Nagase's men want vengeance, and I'm not nearly enough."

"Stop it!" Jun exclaimed, and his fingers tightened around Sho's shoulders- there was a squeak of pain from the other man. "Stop it! You tell me to run one more time and I will. But if you don't, I ain't leavin' again, you hear? You tell me to stay and I will."

Sho's eyes were very wide, even in the dim light. He stared at Jun with slightly parted lips, looking like he was on the edge of something- like he maybe just couldn't believe it yet. All he needed was a push, one final shove, and he'd been free from the side.

Jun moved his hands from Sho's shoulders to cup his face, careful of the angry marks. "Come with me," he whispered.

The other man's breath was hot against Jun's face. "I-"

"Come with me and I'll leave."

Sho sighed. The sound was nothing and everything all at once; the shattering of the dam. "Okay. Yes."

Jun kissed him, and he could taste no doubt there.

\------

He came down the steps to find Ohno frying eggs in the kitchen. “Olsen's chickens?” Nino asked him, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

The baker nodded. “Breakfast for the workers. Fresh eggs are just as good as coin when you've got a whole day out in the sun ahead of you.”

Nino leaned against the doorframe, watching his friend cook. “You feed them better than the person giving you a room.”

Ohno smiled. “Got enough for anyone who cares to eat.”

The shop was being rebuilt at a steady pace, and it seemed like Rapid Springs would be back to normal soon enough. At least until the next big man in the county got too big for his britches, but Nino would be happy with some peace and quiet. He'd be even happier if his arm got better – doing everything with the opposite hand was starting to niggle at what little patience he usually had.

But the building at the end of the main drag had been suspiciously quiet the whole damn week. Nino didn't miss Sheriff Sakurai. Not exactly. Knowing that Masaki Aiba was the man tasked with the town's protection was downright unsettling, that was all. Although he had to admit a genuine curiosity about the Sheriff's fate. The man had done an unexpected thing, taking the blame. He didn't wish for the man's death, that was for sure.

Ohno spooned the eggs out of the pan and into a bowl, seasoning them with some salt and pepper before grabbing some more and cracking them over the pan. “Kazunari, you wanna put these out at the tables and wake the boys?”

Nino snorted. Getting ordered around in his own establishment. Much as he cared about his friend, Satoshi was gonna overstay his welcome sooner or later. He'd be happy when Ohno's store opened up again. He grabbed the bowl of eggs and the fresh baked biscuits that had originally drawn him down from his bed, bringing them out into the main part of his saloon.

He didn't expect to see Jun sitting at the bar, twiddling his thumbs. “Morning.”

Jun looked up, and Nino couldn't exactly define the look crossing his face. “Oh. Morning.”

The smell of breakfast attracted the girls and Ohno's builders alike, and Nino ignored the ones who were emerging from the same rooms upstairs. He was bleeding money at this point, not charging Ohno's workers if they needed companionship. He scowled at them each in turn, looking forward to the days when he could have paying customers again.

Nino went back to the bar, sitting on a stool beside Jun. “Any word yet?”

Jun just stared at the glasses arranged behind the bar. “Got back last night.”

Well, that was news to him. So the Sheriff had come back to town. Sure had kept it quiet. At least he wasn't strung up in Santa Fe. Would have been nice if he'd come around and announced that he was back to boss everyone around as usual. Nino hadn't missed the man's meddling, but it was something he could handle. If he never held a gun in his hand again, he'd live a more fulfilling life.

“They let him walk away,” Nino murmured, turning on the stool to watch everyone sit down for breakfast. “Color me surprised.”

“Ain't sheriff now,” Jun explained. “Took his star. He can't have nothing to do with this place.”

Nino swallowed. Weren't nothing made Sho Sakurai happier than getting to boss folk around – they'd taken it from him now. Only thing the man seemed to have, other than his damn books. “He going back east then?”

“No.”

“Ninomiya!” one of the workers interrupted, banging on the empty bowl. “Got any more breakfast for us?”

“Go to the kitchen and bother the chef,” he snapped back. Jun was already off the stool and heading for the door. Nino followed him silently until they were on the porch. The question went unasked. There was no need to bother. He knew how this was going.

“Give my best to Satoshi,” Jun said.

There was a tightening in his chest, but it was probably his wound acting up. Because he wasn't going to get emotional about something like this. Men came and went out here. It was just how things were. “Don't get into any trouble. But when you do, don't go dragging it to Rapid Springs.”

Jun cracked a rare smile. “Do my best.”

“Seen your best, Matsumoto,” he teased back.

The gunman scratched his head, absentmindedly fixing his hair. “Well, Aiba's doing us one more favor. Better get moving.” Jun dug through his pocket, depositing a handful of bills and coins in Nino's hand. “Closing out his tab.”

Nino accepted it, letting Jun head down the porch steps and down the way to Aiba's. He heard the swinging door squeak behind him minutes later, and Ohno's soft footsteps. “Something wrong?”

He saw two horses, a solemn figure on each of them, leaving from behind Aiba's place minutes later. Those two were a real pain – leaving him to explain to the rest what had happened. But it was probably for the best. A clean break and a fresh start. Nino knew something about that now. He gave Ohno a pat on the shoulder, leaving the porch and heading north, away from the two horses retreating into the warm morning sun behind him.

The door was unlocked, and the shotguns were in the case. The desk had been tidied, organized just so for the building's next occupant, whoever that poor son of a bitch was. Nino passed the iron bars and moved to the small room in back. The bed sheets were gone, and the dresser top was bare. He sat down in the chair, picking up the hat left there.

He ran his finger over the bullet hole through the hat's brim before tossing it on the mattress. There was a stack of dime novels left on the table, worn and probably read a dozen times each. He picked up the one on top of the pile, opening it to the first page.

Nino smiled.


	14. Epilogue

"I think you're overcharging me," Aiba slurred into his glass.

"I ain't overcharging you," Nino replied, from behind the counter as he ran a rag across the chipped surface- he was. He'd pay the deputy back the next day when they played cards, and Aiba would yell at him, and they'd all have a good laugh about it. As it was, the blacksmith was far too drunk to appreciate the joke now. He was peering at the bottom of his glass like the liquor had vanished through the table, rather than down his throat.

Ohno reached over and gave the deputy a tap on the shoulder. "Maybe you should sleep this off."

"Maybe," Aiba said, distractedly, still glowering into his empty cup. "Is there a crack in this?"

"Don't you have to make a good impression tomorrow?" Nino called, finishing up his wipedown of the counter and hanging the rag on the corner of the nearest shelf.

"Oh, right," Aiba said, with a nod. "New sheriff."

"Been awhile," Ohno commented. He ran his fingers across his bottom lip in thought.

"Marshal's an asshole," Nino mumbed.

"New sheriff's from out east, too," Ohno said.

"Can't be worse than the marshal," Nino countered, but upon thinking about it- well, he could be. The marshal might be an uptight federal slave, but he was gettin' on in years, and there was a lot that could go on under his nose he wouldn't pick up on. If the new sheriff was another yankee do-gooder there was no telling how ambitious he might be with Rapid Springs. The last thing Nino wanted was another naive city-boy telling him how to live his life. He groaned aloud. "Dammit."

"Don't say that," Aiba said. "He might be nice."

"What was his name?" Ohno asked, even though Nino most definitely did not care. He closed up the safe and shoved the whole thing under the counter, depositing the key in his trouser pockets. Didn't hurt to be safe, still, after all.

"Ik- Ik," Aiba stammered, trying to remember through the obvious whiskey haze. He looked confused- not that the expression was anything new, really. "Ikuta, I think."

"Joy," Nino commented dryly. Ohno rose, helping Aiba out of his chair as well; the blacksmith was waddling somethin' awful, and Nino could see Ohno's lip twitching in concentrated effort not to laugh.

"C'mon," Ohno said, half-dragging Aiba to the front door. "Let's get you to sleep this off so you show the new sheriff what a great deputy you are."

"I am a great deputy," Aiba slurred, one finger in the air. He stumbled on the boards and nearly tripped. "A greeeeat deputy."

Nino waved at his friend as the two exited the saloon and staggered out into the clear night- the moon was full, looking fat and full in the sky, and the entire town was bathed in the blue hue shining from it. Before the door swung shut he picked out a lone coyote yell in the distance. Shaking his head, he wiped his palms off on his apron, turning to finish cleaning up for the night.

There was a creak and a squeak as the front door opened once more.

"Closin'," Nino called without looking back. "Come back tomorrow."

"Damn," came the reply. "Shoulda known he wouldn't keep open just for us."

Nino froze- stomach twisting a bit. It wasn't what he had been expecting, and that's probably just why he should have known it was coming. They'd been under the marshal's jurisdiction for awhile, it was 'bout time for wanderers to come stumbling back in. He was grinning before he turned, grabbing for the towel once again and slinging it over his shoulder.

"Sonofa bitch," he said.

"Present," Jun said, sauntering in like he owned the joint and sitting in the table nearest to the bar. Behind him, Sho let the door swing shut behind him. He looked less like an asshole without the clean-cut vest and trousers that had accompanied his star, Nino was pleased to notice. He followed Jun to the table, taking the chair next to him.

"You expect me to stay up to serve you two?" Nino asked.

"Mm," came the agreement, and the twich of Jun's mouth.

"Might not be here tomorrow," Sho added.

"Gotta lotta nerve," Nino said, but he was reaching for the whiskey bottle beneath the glasses anyway. He kept his personal stores near the back, and the bottle was covered in dust, but he blew off the offending particles as he pulled it out of the nook. "Or is it that you lack nerve, and that's why you come in through town day before we get our new sheriff?"

Jun took his hat off and ran his hand through the tangles of hair. "New sheriff?"

"Thought I heard something 'bout that," Sho said, chewing on his fingernails.

Nino set the bottle down in the middle of their table, followed by the plinks of three glasses. After pouring, he distributed them; the liquor was a dark amber color, smelling potent.

"Know anything about him?" Jun asked, nodding in thanks to the glass set before him.

"If he's anything like our last one, we're in for a rough time," Nino commented, ignoring Sho's sputters of protest. "'Spose I should drink up then, in preparation."

The whiskey burned like hellfire all down his throat and into his chest, and he narrowly avoided wheezing into his arm. Sho couldn't keep his cough down, but tapped the side of his glass anyway for more.

"Shit," the ex-sheriff gasped. "'Spose you should."

"Makes your eyes water, don't it?" Nino grinned and poured three more.

When the glasses were empty again, he rapped his knuckles against the table-top.

"So what?" he asked. "You runnin' from the law yet?"

"Eh," Sho laughed. He crossed his arms over his chest, staring up at the beams of the ceiling. It was quiet- the girls hadn't come out, at least, to see what was going on. Probably already took the powder off their faces; they hated being seen without their paint on.

"That a yes?" Nino asked. He poured the glasses full again, and glanced inside the bottle. Still half the liquor left within the translucent jug. Jun downed his with little more than a grimace at the stinging after-taste.

"Not yet," he said.

"Better work harder," Nino told them, wincing as the liquor burned his throat.

"How 'bout Rapid Springs?" Sho asked. He sounded a bit wistful, a little more subdued. Maybe his do-good attitude hadn't completely disappeared out in the sand yet. "How 'bout Aiba and Ohno?"

"Saw them comin' in," Jun added, pointing towards the door.

"Same as ever," Nino answered. Jun reached for the jug, foregoing his glass completely to take a swig from the puckered top. "We've started up a card game every Tuesday."

"Card game?" the ex-sheriff asked, suspicious, and Nino shot him a glare that lost most of its punch when he laughed while delivering it.

"Marshal's here, Sakurai," Nino said, kicking at the bottom of Sho's chair. "Ain't nothing illegal 'bout our game."

Sho looked slightly appeased. Jun handed him the whiskey bottle, and he took a long drink from it, passing it off to Nino. The firewater burned worse when it came straight- maybe it was just the amount he'd taken.

"So what, you just ridin' through then?" Nino leaned back, popping his chair up on its two back legs.

"What, we can't show up now and then?" Jun asked.

"I think you're just here to drink my best whiskey," Nino replied. He reached for the bottle, but Jun wouldn't pass it til he'd taken a drink himself. The burn was starting to lessen- meant it was hitting his bloodstream quicker than lightning.

"Maybe get a bed to sleep in," Sho added.

"Ah," Nino groaned. "I knew it. You are fixin' to rob me blind."

The bottle was empty- he didn't know when the amber liquid had run out. Hadn't lasted nearly as long as he thought it was going to.

"You coming here for my girls, too?" he asked, rising to his feet with intent to get back behind the bar and retrieve another bottle; seemed like a good idea, at least, though it was always a bit difficult to figure when his blood started stinging like it was.

"Your black-toothed whores?" Jun said. "Definitely didn't come here for them."

Nino was laughing until Jun's hand shot out, quick as a wink, and grabbed his wrist as he passed by the other man's chair. It startled him, but not nearly as bad as it did when Jun pulled him in. He half-fell on the gunslinger's lap, and the whiskey had slowed his thoughts to where he was just trying to re-situate himself when Jun's mouth found his. The other man tasted like the slowburn of the liquor, like the dust from the desert sands.

Hands were on his shoulders, and then his sides, and he moaned into Jun's mouth without really knowing he was doing it. The warmth on his lips shifted to his neck, and he glanced across the table.

"Don't think your sheriff is too happy 'bout this," he gasped, as Jun's teeth found his earlobe.

"Pretty sure my sheriff agreed to this," Jun breathed next to his ear.

"Agreed to what?" Nino asked. Jun's hands had gotten under his shirt already, and his fingertips felt like fire against Nino's chest. "Watchin'?"

A scraping of wood against floorboards, and Sho was on his feet, moving towards them. "Ain't watchin' anything."

Nino expected to be violently dragged from Jun's lap- he had not expected for Sho's hands to clamp down on either side of his face for a rough, demanding kiss. For all his wishy-washy attitude, the former sheriff didn't waste any time- his tongue immediately swept along Nino's lips. He tasted like whiskey, too; it was alighting the fire already coarsing through Nino's veins.

Jun's hands were still on Nino's thighs, creeping up along his trousers.

"So what?" Nino groaned, against Sho's lips. "You come here to gang up on me then?"

"We owe you, right?" Sho mumbled.

"Settle the score," Jun added. His hands had gotten to Nino's belt, and were rapidly un-hooking the buckle. As intoxicating as Sakurai's mouth was- and it really was, Nino had to admit he understood a bit why Jun followed the man like a lovesick puppy- he wrenched himself away to bat at Jun's still-moving fingers.

"Wait," he gasped.

"Don't wanna," came the breathy reply, and Sho's mouth was on the side of his neck, sending delicious shivers down his spine.

"I work here," Nino said. "We- the girls could come out."

"So?" was Jun's response. He'd gotten Nino's shirt open.

"Upstairs," Nino choked out as his throat constricted. For a moment he thought neither was actually going to heed his request- but then Jun's hands fell away from his abdomen where they were trailing little wriggling lines down his skin, and Nino found himself back on his feet again, being hauled to the stairs. He led- it was his place, after all, despite everything else- and behind him he heard a body hit the side like the figure was entirely too drunk to stand, and then a little gasp that was definitely not of pain.

He turned to find the two following him with their arms wrapped around each other, trying to get up the stairs at the same time. It would have been funny if he hadn't been painfully hard already; they were just taking more time getting up to his bedroom that way.

"Come on," he hissed, grabbing for an arm- he didn't care whose it was. It ended up being Jun's. The man pulled away from Sho's mouth with a breathy laugh and grabbed for Nino instead, with Sho's arms still tangled 'round his waist. His kiss was needy and Nino paused in his movement up the stairs to lean into it further, parting Jun's lips with his tongue in a desperate search for more heat.

"Up," Sho panted, mouth finding Nino's earlobe once more. "Up, now."

"Drunk," Jun laughed, when Nino managed to actually pull himself away.

They stumbled in a mass of limbs up into the bedroom, and at least one of them had the good sense to bolt the door after falling inside it. Nino rarely liked to be on the receiving end of anything- 'specially something where he was compromising his control on the situation- but nevertheless he found himself on his back on his bed, with Jun straddling him. The gunslinger bent down to capture Nino's mouth again.

When his hands found Nino's belt buckle again, Nino lifted his hips to allow the garment to be pulled away.

"This what you do when you're on the trail?" Nino gasped. Jun's fingers slipped in his trousers, stroking his length.

"Wish you were with us?" Sho asked, from his right- he was kneeling by the side of the bed in a drunk attempt to get his boots off. It took that to make Nino realize he was still wearing his.

Nino thought about answering, but then Jun's hand closed completely around his cock, and he decided against it. A second later, he was divested of most of his clothing, and found himself tugging on Jun's shirt to get the offending article off. It came easy- mostly because Sho helped, kissing Jun's shoulders and neck and tangling his fingers in Jun's hair. It was intoxicating to watch; Jun threw his head back into the motion, lips parting.

Nino should have remembered Jun was the whimperin' type.

He ground his hips up against the gunslingers, friction and heat exploding into his senses. The other man rocked with him, matching his rhythm- he could feel Jun's cock against his thigh, could watch Sho leaning over Jun's shoulder to kiss him. He didn't know which one was making it worse- Jun rocking against his hips or watching the two groan against each other's mouths above him.

"Shit," he finally settled on, because there was a bubble that wanted to escape his mouth and he could think of nothing else appropriate to say. Sho moved a bit, to the side, and Nino could reach him again- he grabbed for the ex-sheriff's arm and tugged on his shirt, loosening the buttons. As the other man helped him remove his own shirt, he passed off a small pouch to Jun.

The gunslinger took it, and moved so their hips were no longer grinding against each other- Nino groaned in impatience, arching up to try and find the lost heat again.

"What are you-?" was all he got out before he figured out what was in the pouch when Jun slid a slicked finger inside him.

"You gonna let me?" came the out-of-breath, slightly garbled response. He bucked against the sensation, wanting more and less at the same time and unable to settle on which one it was. It was like gunpowder compressed in a barrel, waiting to explode- there were stars at the edges of his vision, where Sho was still lingering.

"I- yes," Nino gasped. "Fuck it all, yes- _yes_ -"

And then Jun's hands were pulling his hips upward, sliding his length in with a groan that hitched in the back of his throat.

"Fuck," the gunslinger ground out, between clenched teeth.

"I get Sakurai," Nino managed to hiss, as Jun started rocking, thrusting with easy movements.

"Like shit you do," Sho spat. Jun's rhythm was increasing in speed, and Nino's vision was seriously going then- but he glanced over just once before squeezing his eyes shut to see the ex-sheriff with his own cock in his hand, stroking his length with deft fingers.

"Fuck," Jun repeated; the word came out as moan, breathy and warbled, and his hands grabbed for Nino's thighs. His fingers 'round his legs were tight, almost painfully so- but everything was pain-laced with ecstasy by that point, and Nino couldn't tell any of it apart. He wasn't sure he wanted to. "Fuck- fuck, _Nino_ -"

There was something very intoxicating about Jun hissing his name like that. Nino didn't have as much flexibility as he would like- given he'd never exactly been in the position before- but he could reach up enough to grab for Jun's hair and pull the man forward a bit. He didn't let go of the strands; instead, he laced his fingers through them to tug harder.

He was rewarded with another moan that mingled with a surprised yelp.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," and then Jun came with legs twitching and a groan, half-falling on Nino as he slid out, muscles spasming. Nino shifted- wincing, a bit, at the dull ache- and then winced again. He was impossibly close, so close he could almost taste his orgasm just beyond his fingertips. Jun moved off the bed, and then Sho was there grabbing for Nino's face to kiss him hard, rough- heady. It just elicited another pang between his thighs, and he tried to swallow back the moan and didn't entirely succeed.

Sho's hand slid down to Nino's cock, slick with sweat.

"I said I got you," Nino gasped, but it was half-hearted at best, because his heartbeat was pounding in his ears and he was far beyond actually caring. He ached for release, and bucked into Sho's palm in an attempt to get closer to it.

"Done enough of that, haven't you?" Sho hissed, and his mouth traveled down to Nino's neck, to his collarbone, leaving hot trails behind it when it slid 'cross his navel. When his mouth closed around Nino's cock, he had to restrain himself from grinding up into it instinctively- the explosion of heat was so intense it was almost another wave of pleasure-mingled pain.

"Ah," was all he could get out past his lips, as Sho's mouth tightened and began moving slowly- too slowly. Much, much too slowly. Nino did buck up then, trying to find more. "Fuck you, Sakurai."

He could practically feel the smile against his length. Everything was moving at a ridiculously hazy pace, laced with the warmth of Sho's lips and the movement up and down, and then all of a sudden it built up in a split second, coming apart just like dynamite. He barely got a groan out before the rush was rippling through his form, hard and intense. As the tremors faded, Sho sat up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Even now, ain't we?" Sho whispered.

"Not yet," Nino sighed, because he could feel Sho's erection against his stomach. He reached for it, and was batted away.

"Ah," Sho breathed, like he got kicked in the stomach, as Jun turned his body on the bed so his legs dangled off the side. Nino didn't even try to disguise moving his head to see; the gunslinger was on his knees, hands on Sho's thighs, craning his neck up to meet Sho's lips. It was oddly intimate- had Nino not been sated and in the thick of things, he would have felt uncomfortable lingering on it.

And then Jun broke it off to move to Sho's cock, bobbing up and down with one hand wrapped 'round the base. The ex-sheriff's eyes fluttered closed and his hands laced in Jun's hair- just like he had done when Nino had been in the same position, demanding Sho think of Jun.

Without really thinking about it, Nino was up on his knees, moving around to Sho's back. When he curled his head around, he could nip at Sakurai's ears.

It seemed to work- Sho gasped, a whistling hiss of air between his teeth.

"Liked this last time, didn't you?" Nino whispered, against Sho's temple, fingers curling 'round the law-man's shoulders. "Like when people talk dirty to you."

"Shut up," Sho groaned, but his head fell back a bit, to give Nino more access. Between his thighs, Jun was increasing his pace. Nino reached to grab at the other side of Sho's face, pulling him closer to crush their mouths together. Sho moaned, and Nino could feel his muscles start to tense, and he bit at Sho's bottom lip when he felt the sharp intake of breath. Sho sputtered and came, moaning again.

Jun stood, and pulled Nino away from Sho's mouth to kiss him, and Nino couldn't tell who he was tasting on the gunslinger's lips at that point.

"Shit," Sho exhaled.

"We ain't all gonna fit on this bed," Nino mumbled against Jun's lips. He found himself getting pushed back against the pillow anyway, and Sho was crawling in beside him.

"Sure we are," Jun whispered. He pulled at the blanket that had gotten pushed- at some point- to the very bottom of the mattress. Nino reached for it as well, and hit Sho's leg. He slapped it, kicking slightly.

"Take your damn boots off," he commanded. "I sleep here."

Sho did as he was told with a sleepy mumble of affirmation, and as soon as the heels of the boots hit the boards, he was back up on the pillow, slinking an arm 'round Nino's waist.

"Smell like whiskey," Jun sighed against Nino's other side, face buried between Nino's shoulder and the linen cloth on the pillow.

"You smell like Sho," Nino shot back.

"Head's gonna hurt tomorrow," Jun said.

"Shut up," Sho slurred. "Head's gonna hurt now otherwise."

Nino hit Sho's arm with his palm, but it lacked malice. After a moment, he felt Jun sigh again, shifting against his back. He wasn't sure whose arm his hand was resting on.

"You gonna run again?" he asked, quiet- Sho's breathing had already slowed, deep and regular.

"Maybe," came the weary reply.

"I get Sakurai tomorrow."

Jun shifted, and laughed a little, kissing Nino's shoulder. "Mm. Okay."

Nino didn't wake up until Sho wound up on the floor the next morning, sputtering and indignant, and promptly kicked the other two out of Nino's bed entirely.


End file.
